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Heart in a Headlock

Summary:

When a serial sniper targets socialites in New York, Ian Edgerton pops up to help.

Malcolm never told anyone about his casual relationship with Edgerton, nor did he mention he was sleeping with a man who was basically Gil's doppelganger. But the further Malcolm dives into this case, the more his life is at risk, and Ian and Gil will do anything to protect him.

**tags will be updated but the violence is strictly about the case, so no sexual violence.

Notes:

Oh boy, I thank Prodigal Son and the fandom so much for getting me back into writing. This is the first time in years I've written this much. This fic is technically completed but I've split it into parts. I plan to update every Tuesday as to fill in the blank spaces of the PSon hiatus for this month.

I was heavily inspired by Holyfudgemonkey's I'll be in the middle and the developing relationship between Ian and Malcolm, and how it eventual leads to Ian/Malcolm/Gil. But to everyone who has written Ian/Malcolm thank YOU.

This starts off with Ian/Malcolm but does develop into Ian/Malcolm/Gil.

Takes place after Internal Affairs but before Wait & Hope

This fic was also inspired and referenced by the following shows and their episodes:
Criminal Minds: LDSK/Minimal Loss
Numb3rs: Sniper Zero/Angels and Devils/Ultimatum

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Gil/Malcolm/Ian-Heart in a Headlock


Frankly, Malcolm is very offended. He’s rarely offended, because his entire life has people dedicated to personally attacking him. He’s been speculated as a murderer by police, when he was eleven, then again when he was seventeen, and even his own supervisors at Quantico. Their words (and punches) hurt, yes, but never really offended him.

No, he’s offended now because Lieutenant Gil Arroyo really thinks he can keep Malcolm Bright away from a crime scene. He’s told Dani, JT, and Edrisa to not contact him in any cases, and to alert other officers if he’s nearby. 

Ainsley is unintentionally his way in when she texts him that morning. Two old classmates of Malcolm, whose names he didn’t recognize, were holding a charity benefit. They came from old money and therefore had contact with the Miltons once upon a time. After the arrest of The Surgeon, his mother’s connections with New York’s socialites have dwindled to almost none. Jessica had called Ainsely, ranting how she was not invited to the benefit despite the Milton family owning the hotel, and Jessica helped secure a reservation years in advance. He didn’t think anything of it until reports of gunfire from the waterfront hotel sent people in a panic. 

Ainsley is on the scene in less than ten minutes. Despite his stitches and hand in a cast, Malcolm makes it there in twenty. 

The top of the hotel is an air-open ballroom for parties with a full kitchen and pool. The ground is occupied by police and news vans, when he noticed one officer placing his hat on the hood of a car in order to prepare for an interview with Ainsley. Keeping his head down Malcolm swoops the hat, as Ainsley begins her news update, and walks past the other officers unnoticed. He makes his way up to the top floor, right at the crime scene. 

It’s a mess, to say the least. Chairs and tables tossed over, food thrown on the floor, some shoes missing--evidence of a panic stampede to the only exit, a small hallway and elevator exactly where Malcolm just came from. The hotel isn’t the tallest building in the area, and with three other buildings surrounding it any of the structures could have been the shooter’s spot. 

The victim is in the middle of the ballroom, lying face down with an entry wound behind his head. There’s another pool of blood that drags to the exit. From what Ainsley has so far reported, the second victim is taken to the hospital, though no information if she’s survived. 

Malcolm spins on his heels to take a quick look at the other high rises when Dani approaches him. Her head’s down, focused on her notepad. “No bullet fragments were found here, though there’s some scattered metal shards around the victim's body. Can you collect them for Dr. Tanaka?”

Malcolm coughs, and tries to get his voice to go deeper. “Ah, yes Detective Powell.” He attempts to walk past her, but she grabs his shoulder and spins him around, removing his hat in the process. “Uh, hi?”

“Bright?” She asks, head tilted and a smirk forming on her face. “And what are you doing here?”

“I, uh, rented a room for tonight? But you know what I think I’ll check out instead so if you’ll excuse--ow, ow, Dani please--”

She pulls him by the ear and drags him over to Gil and JT. JT doesn’t even try to hide his amusement, while Gil shakes his head and rubs the crease between his eyes. “Really, Bright? How did you even get past my guys?”

“If I tell you then you’d know how to stop me next time.”

Gil rolls his eyes. “Go home kid, strap yourself to your bed if you have to. We can take it from here.”

“But it’s a sniper, right? Have you guys figured out where he shot from?”

“The case’s just begun Bright, but you need rest.” Gil says. “Don’t make me call your mother.”

Dani snorts, but Malcolm shakes his head. “Okay but listen, just from where the victim’s body is, it has to at least be one of those two buildings.” Malcolm says, pointing to two buildings directly across from the hotel. “Most likely between stories 20-30, and with the wind speeds tonight he’d have to be shooting from the right part of the building--well uh our right hotel left--assuming we’re going by how he’s facing the hotel.”

JT makes a sound that indicates he’s impressed with the conclusion, though he has to ask. “How do you know he’s male?”

“Majority of long distance killers are.” Malcolm says with a shrug, “The bureau’s never been able to build a proper profile since this type of killing is rare, but from past cases they’re usually male.” With his good hand he takes out the scope of a sniper rifle from his jacket pocket and looks through it. “He’s most likely left already, but we should definitely be looking…”

“Kid, you are not part of the ‘we’ tonight...” He hears Gil say, though he isn’t listening once he locks eyes on a man, standing on a balcony. He should panic, thinking it’s the shooter, but even from this far away Malcolm recognizes him. He’s wearing sunglasses, a leather jacket, and a black v-neck paired with jeans. The man waves to Malcolm as he takes out his cellphone.

Malcolm’s own phone begins to ring. The Caller ID shows Ian , and Malcolm swallows nervously, unsure if he can hide his giddiness from reading the man’s name after months of not seeing him. He uses his cast hand to hold his scope, and answers with his good hand. 

It’s been a while, pretty boy. Nice eye, glad to see you’ve kept my lessons in mind.”

Malcolm huffs out a laugh. “You were a good teacher.”

“Tell your team to come up, got evidence he shot from this exact room.”  

Ian hangs up before Malcolm can say more. He turns to Gil with a guilty smile. “Uh, that was the FBI. They found the room where the shooter was stationed.”

Gil blinks, confused by an extra hand in the case. “FBI, what’s Swanson doing here?”

“Oh not, Swanson. He’s uh...I think it’s best to talk to him yourself.” But then Malcolm inwardly cringes, because he rarely talks about his days with the bureau, much less his personal relationships with a man who looks identical to Gil. “Just keep an open mind.”

Ian texts him the exact floor and room number, so Malcolm leads them over. Their way to the building over is quick with a few more protests from Dani insisting he go home to rest. “Trust me, I need to be here for this.” 

The door to the hotel room is propped open, though no police officers are inside. There are yellow tags on several parts of the room and on the floor. Marked near the bed looks like to be a partial make out of a footprint. The balcony’s sliding door is also wide open, with a few more yellow tags on the concrete. Leaning on the rail, arms crossed over his chest and a case file in his hand, is Special Agent Ian Edgerton with a lollipop in his mouth. He pops it out, loudly, and Malcolm can see how the dye stained his tongue and lips red. 

Malcolm tires to not let his mouth go dry.  

“Didn’t tell me you’re NYPD now,” Ian says as he takes a step forward as he removes his sunglasses. “I would have called to let you know I was coming…”

Ian quickly trails off when he finally makes eye contact with Gil. Malcolm holds his breath as Dani and JT take a look as well, and their eyes go between Gil and Ian. 

Ian’s the first to break the silence with a simple, “Huh.” He looks surprised, but his face isn’t giving much else. 

“Malcolm?” Gil says, his voice tight and clearly waiting for an explanation, like it’s his fault Malcolm knows his doppelganger.

“This is Special Agent Ian Edgerton.” Malcolm says, “My sniper instructor back in Quantico.” 

He decides to leave out the detail that Ian is his ex...whatever the hell they were.

They never put a label on it. 

“Ian, this is Lieutenant Gil Arroyo, and Detectives Powell and Tarmel.” Malcolm continues. “I just consult for the NYPD.”

Having Gil and Ian in the same room, standing face to face, is both a wet dream and a nightmare. Last he saw Ian, he had shorter hair, looking rougher than he normally does since he was fighting the bureau over a case he handled less than professional. His hair has gotten a little longer now, though not quite as wavy as Gil’s. He looks less stressed at least. 

Still, the resemblance to each other is uncanny. 

If Gil shaved, he’d be identical to Ian with the only real resemblance between the two are their outfit choices. Ian never goes anywhere without a leather jacket, while Gil has a coat or sweater, even in the summer. Even their voices sound alike, especially when they say Malcolm’s name. 

JT snaps a picture, and when they turn to him, he just shrugs. “Just thought Tally would get a kick out of this.”

“Right,” Ian says, finally shaking off the shock. “If you don’t mind I’d like to help. I’ve been trailing him from the west, maybe connected to several shootings in other states.” He hands Gil the case file. “Potentially started in San Diego, two more in New Jersey, and now here.” 

Gil takes a quick passover and rubs his head. Malcolm peeks at the files, quickly noting the victims. Always a couple, married, the man shot in the head, the woman in the abdomen. 

Gil closes the files before Malcolm can read anymore, giving Malcolm a pointed look. Malcolm just returns it. “Fine, I’ll read it at the station.”

“You,” Gil says, “Are supposed to be at home talking to Sunshine.” 

“Actually,” Ian interrupts, “I’d like to get Malcolm’s opinion. Two profilers are better than one, and he was the best profiler in the bureau.”

Malcolm shoots Gil a triumphant smile, and Gil just rolls his eyes. 

Ian pulls out a wrapped lollipop from his pocket and taps it on Malcom’s head. “Don’t get cocky there pretty boy.” Ian says, handing it to him. “You were only the third best shot in the class.” 

Leave it to Ian to bring his ego down a peg, though never out of malice. Malcolm just sticks the lollipop in his mouth while Dani and JT snicker behind him. 

Since he took an uber to the scene, Malcolm jumps into Ian’s car to give directions to their office, while JT and Dani go with Gil. Malcolm tries not to think too hard how Gil stares at them, a little too long, before he gets into the driver seat. 

Ian waits until Gil finally drives off when he turns over to Malcolm, holding Malcolm’s chin between his thumb and index finger. He takes out the lollipop with his other hand and leans forward, capturing Malcolm’s lips in a hard and sugary kiss. Malcolm closes his eyes and instinctively opens his mouth, allowing Ian to push his tongue in and taste him. A pathetic and desperate noise slips out of Malcolm, and he knows because he feels Ian smirk into the kiss, and still wears it when he pulls away. “Good to see you again Bright.”

Malcolm clears his throat, trying to maintain whatever little composure he has left. “Put your seatbelt on Edgerton.”

“Yes sir.” Ian teases back. But then Ian’s voice drops, now filled with concern. He almost sounds like Gil. “How’s the hand? You really got kidnapped by a serial killer?”

Now he’s thinking he should have stayed at home, to avoid this part.

Malcolm scoffs. “Knew you actually listened to rumors.” Ian’s never contributed to agent gossip, but he’s always listening. It’s in his nature to wait, listen, observe. 

Ian shrugs. “Little hard to ignore when all the chatter is ‘how stupid Bright is’. And you know me, can’t exactly turn my back when they talk about you like that.” 

Though sweet of Ian to defend him, Malcolm sighs into his seat. Even after being fired he’s still the talk of the FBI, wonderful. Ian notices his disdain and reaches out, ruffling Malcolm’s hair. “Hey, none of that thinking pretty boy. Though if you’re not feeling good just let me know, and I’ll take you home.”

“Please, I’m going stir crazy,” Malcolm says. “I won’t be out on the field all the time, just want to at least give a profile.”

Ian sighs, and Malcolm knows he’s won this argument. Even when he was hurt before he’d show up back to the office the next day to do paperwork. His mind is always running, he needs something, or someone, to keep him occupied. 

It’s kind of how they fell into bed in the first place. 

They arrive at the precinct, and like a gentleman Ian helps him out of his seatbelt. Ian reaches to the back to grab more of his files, but right before they exit the car Ian steals another kiss, and Malcolm happily kisses back. 

Malcolm leads him to the conference room where Gil, Dani, and JT are already waiting. Edrisa is there too, and the delight in her face when she sees Ian can light up an entire room. 

“Huh, the chances of meeting one’s doppelganger is one in a trillion, which means impossible since there aren’t a trillion people in the world so this--”

“So the files.” Malcolm interrupts. “Can we see them?”

Ian lays out everything he can, the victim’s photos are tacked onto the white board while their files are on the desk for the team to read through. He gives Edrisa the autopsy and medical reports of the six previous victims, though they are still waiting for a call for tonight's. She tells them she’ll be in her lab working on the husband. 

Photos now up on the board, Malcolm sees a clear pattern. All were in their early 30’s, married, and the women were of high influence. 

“JT, can I borrow your phone?” Malcolm asks. 

“Why?”

“I don’t have facebook.” Malcolm simply says. JT shakes his head but hands his phone anyway. Malcolm goes through the app and searches for the latest victim, Blair Woodsen, and she’s the first to appear when searching. There’s news of the shooting, confirming she was the victim, but Malcolm only focuses on her past posts. Seeing her photos, Malcolm has a vague recollection of her back in high school. She’s naturally a brunette but dyed her hair platinum blonde in the last couple years. Like her parents before her, she’s taken up law, and is representing a real estate company, whom her husband, Henry Thornton, was CFO of. The party tonight was a benefit dinner hosted by Thornton.

“Find anything?” JT asks, impatient and wanting his phone back. 

Malcolm returns it. “Ainsely said I knew the victims, that I went to school with them.”

“Remington?” Gil asks. 

Malcolm shakes his head. “No, the preparatory school before I transferred. I can’t even remember if I had classes with either of them.” He says honestly. “I’ll ask my mother, but from her last name she definitely comes from old money. Woodsen Law has been around since the early 1900s here in New York. Thornton is also in the socialite community, but the Woodsens are worth more." A lot more, one of the richest families in the city.

“That strangely only fits the victimology of the two from Jersey.” Ian says. “Linda Vander Wolf and Kathy Simmons are New Jersey socialites. Vander Wolf is Jersey local, Simmons grew up in New York but moved to Jersey after she got married, the wives come from money, but Tina Morris in San Diego was middle class, her husband actually is unemployed. She came from Oregon and moved down to California for college. However, Vander Wolf had her house robbed, the other victims didn’t have their properties touched.”

He doesn’t have enough for a motive if only one house was robbed, but they can’t rule out the pattern of the shootings: the woman in the stomach, and the men in the head. The women are more likely to survive but the men are an instant kill.  Only two of the survivors have a connection, but nothing definitive linking them besides the shootings. 

“Ballistics?” JT asks. 

“Guessing a .223 caliber round, which fragments on impact. ME in San Diego couldn’t piece it together but after Jersey I noticed the fragment pattern. Can’t be a coincidence eight people in just a span of a few months get shot with the same bullet, right?”

Edrisa will be able to confirm the fragments once she finishes her exam. Circumstantially, it makes sense why Ian’s come all the way here. 

Same bullets, similar victimology, Malcolm’s afraid to admit they do have a long distance serial killer in New York. 


Not long after Edrisa returns with her report that confirms the same bullets of the first three shootings, Malcolm heads home. Not that he wants to admit that Gil’s right, but his stomach began hurting from the strain of standing. He leaves with an uber, while everyone else stays at the station to figure out their next move.

Freshly showered, Malcolm lays in bed, ipad in hand as he rereads over Ian’s case files. On his phone he downloads facebook and makes a burner account just to look over the other victims, and possibly build up a proper victimology profile. Ian obviously sees a connection despite the time and distance of the killings. The shooting in Southern California was two months ago, and then New Jersey was one week ago and just a few days apart from each other. He needs to piece what caused the escalation between two months of no activity, to just a week apart from Jersey and New York. 

A few hours into his research, the sun’s fully set. His phone buzzes with a text, and Malcolm can’t help but smile when he sees Ian’s name again. 

Found a Filipino place still serving food, got you some siopao. Can I come over?

Malcolm only had toast with a light jam when he came back, he figures he can eat something more. Siopao is filling but doesn’t hurt his stomach, so it’s perfect. He texts back with his address and building code, and once he sends it he goes back to the reports, but there’s only so much he can look at before his eyes start to strain. Interviewing the latest survivor may be his best bet into moving forward, but with Gil barring him from field work, he’s just stuck with the paperwork afterwards. It’s not that Ian’s, or Dani’s or JT’s reports are bad, but Malcolm would rather see everything first and to get the best possible intel. 

He shuts off his ipad and rubs his eyes. It’s only nine o’clock, way too early for his insomnia to kick in. Ian should be here soon. That’s when it hits him, that after months of not seeing each other, not since Malcolm was fired, Ian’s coming here tonight, with food, and the same sultry stare he’s been giving since waving at him from the crime scene. He quickly stands, ignoring the pain in his stomach, and hobbles over to a drawer where he keeps the home goods. Scented candles, matches, cheesy cds that he decides Ian definitely doesn’t need to hear. 

Malcolm lights up some candles, strategically placing them by his half-circle window. He checks his drawer by the nightstand, noting he has enough lube and condoms, though the condoms are debatable since they didn’t use it often. Just as he goes to dim the lights there’s a knock at his door. Sunshine chirps, disturbed by the noise, and he goes to coo her back to sleep just before he answers. 

Ian leans on the door frame, sunglasses now hanging on the opening of his v-neck. A plastic bag carrying their take out hangs from his hand, but Malcolm also notices his overnight bag slinged over his shoulder.

“Didn’t get a hotel on your way here?” Malcolm asks teasingly, stepping back to let him in.

“I did, but thought I could save the Bureau some money by crashing here.”

He probably shouldn’t allow his ex stay the night, hell he shouldn’t have kissed his ex when they first saw each other again. But that’s the thing about Ian. He’s intoxicating, dripping with a dominant energy Malcolm always goes on his knees for. 

Ian is always someone he wants. 

“Nice place, bigger than DC.” Ian comments as he places their take out on the kitchen island. “Is Sunshine still here?”

“Yeah, she’s just asleep.” Malcolm says, pointing over to her cage. “She may bite if you wake her up.” 

“Noted.” Ian says as he turns to Malcolm. He grabs Malcolm by the bottom of his shirt and pulls him close so that they’re chest to chest. Malcolm breathes slowly, allowing his good hand to trail up Ian’s front. His shirt is thin, so he can feel how hard his abs and chest are. He’s still keeping in such good shape. 

Malcolm tilts his head up and Ian understands what he needs. He meets him in the middle to capture his lips once again, but instead of it being quick, he takes his time, opening Malcolm’s mouth with his tongue while his hands go down to Malcolm’s ass. He gives Malcolm a small squeeze, and Malcolm chuckles into the kiss. 

“Who wears boxers this tight?” Ian asks when they break apart. “Might as well not wear anything at all.”

“Well, what are you going to do about it?” Malcolm challenges.

With a smile, Ian lifts Malcolm up in his arms. He wraps his legs around Ian’s waist as Ian takes him to his bed. He drops him down gently and crawls on top of him, kissing hungrily, possessively, the way Ian’s always kissed him. With his good hand, Malcolm desperately tugs at Ian’s shirt to get it over his head, and luckily Ian knows what he wants and helps him out. 

“You’re too pretty, pretty boy, let me see you.” 

“Wait--” Ian only has to lift Malcolm’s shirt up to his chest when he sees it, the week old stitches courtesy of John Watkins. 

Ian stops all movements, staring at Malcolm’s stomach. Lust quickly fades to worry. “Mal… I didn’t--they said you just broke your hand--”

“Hey,” Malcolm says, holding Ian’s face. “I’m fine. He purposely missed all my major organs.”

“And that makes it better?” 

Malcolm shrugs. “I survived.”

“You were taken by some maniac.” Ian says, cradling Malcolm like he’s going to break. This isn’t the first time they’ve gone to bed like this, with Malcolm bruised and Ian right on top of him. Ian hesitated the first time too. “Bright, maybe we shouldn’t--.”

But Malcolm convinced him before, and he’ll do it again. Malcolm shuts him up with a kiss, and he cups the erection in Ian’s pants to prove he’s done talking. 

Because right now he just wants to feel good, by the man who always helped him forget his troubles, even if it’s just for a few hours. He doesn’t want to think about Watkins, that basement, his father. 

He just wants Ian. 

“Fuck, Malcolm,” Ian growls as he removes his own pants. “If I’m too rough--”

“I know, I know,” Malcolm says as he pushes his hips up to meet Ian’s. “Just--I’m good. I just took a shower so--”

Good .” 

Their hands scratch at each other as they try to remove every piece of clothing. Ian tosses everything to the floor and thrusts down, meeting his erection with Malcolm’s. This is what he needs, a hot and heavy body on top of him, and a nice long cock to fuck him deep. 

Their kisses become frantic, wetter with more teeth. Ian nips at Malcolm’s lips but then bites on his jawline, and the sensitive spot on Malcolm’s neck. Malcolm arches his body to meet with Ian’s wanting so desperately to be touched. 

When they were together, Ian would take his time with him. Teasing Malcolm for hours until he’s a sobbing mess and begging to be fucked. Right now, Malcolm’s a little too impatient for that, and so is Ian. Malcolm says between their kisses where the lube is, and Ian reaches over to the drawer to grab it. He looks at the condoms too and raises an eyebrow to Malcolm.

“I uh, I did have sex, but we used a condom.” he says truthfully. “And docs said I was clean from my last check up. And hey, no tetanus from the knife.” 

Ian shakes his head with a laugh, tossing the condoms aside. “You want me to fill you up, pretty boy? Get you full and wet?”

Malcolm shivers at his tone and nods. The sound of the cap coming loose is louder than expected, and he watches in anticipation as Ian squeezes a good amount onto his fingers. The press against his hole is expected, though Malcolm still has to breathe to relax. Ian was the last person to fuck him after all, so it’s been a while since anyone but himself has done this. 

He spreads his legs wider, giving Ian as much access to him as possible. 

Ian sucks down on his neck as he opens him up. Ian’s fingers are long and he knows how to make Malcolm tremble from that alone. Malcolm’s nails dig into Ian’s back, trying to keep him in place. He feels his neck bruising from his teeth, and Malcolm wants to be covered in hickies and bite-marks, a temporary pain that’ll turn to pleasure. 

“Just-Ian please just… I need you.”

It’s not as much begging as he usually does, in fact Ian won’t touch him until there are tears in his eyes, but he can tell Ian’s just as wound up as he is. He takes out his fingers and lines his hips with Malcolm’s. “I need you too, pretty boy, always do.”

The heat of Ian’s cock presses at his entrance and Malcolm throws his head back with a moan. The stretch always feels wonderful, a burn that cools into pleasure as Ian goes deeper. 

“Fuck, fucking miss this.” Ian tells him, unable to look away from how their bodies connect. 

“Miss this too.” Malcolm admits. 

Ian drops his head down to Malcolm’s, their foreheads touching and sharing the same air. Ian has his eyes closed, but Malcolm’s watching his face, watching how he’s slowly losing composure with Malcolm’s heat. When Ian’s all the way in, they stay like that for a moment, savoring each other. 

He’s stretched and full, and Malcolm wants more. Ian fits into him perfectly. He clenches around Ian, who gasps and then huffs out a laugh. “Jesus baby, you really want it huh?”

“Would have let you take me on the balcony if not for my team.” Malcolm says honestly. It also wouldn’t be the worst place they’ve fucked before, and the view would have been nice.

Ian laughs again. “You are--” with the snaps of his hips Ian thrusts into Malcolm, “gorgeous.”

He doesn’t give Malcolm a chance to respond. Ian pulls out, just enough for Malcolm to whine at the lost before thrusting right back in with full force. 

Ian’s movements are relentless, powerful, and everything Malcolm’s needed since he came back home. He fucks Malcolm with force and precision, hitting his sweet spot over and over, just the way he remembers--the way he loves and craves for it when he’s not with Ian. 

His cock hasn’t even been touched, but he’s leaking all over his stomach. Malcolm throws his head back, calling Ian’s name over and over until he comes between them. Still, he’s not done. This is the part he loves, how oversensitive and worn out his body is, and Ian using him for his own pleasure. 

“Fuck, fuck Mal I’m close. You’re so tight around me.” 

With what energy he has left Malcolm licks a long stripe from Ian’s collarbone to his ear. He bites down on his earlobe and whispers, “Come inside me daddy .” 

Intertwining their hands together, Ian calls out Malcolm’s name, snaps his hips, and comes deep inside him. Malcolm leans up for a kiss that Ian happily returns, his mouth wet and needy for him. 

They’re wet and sticky, between their sweat, saliva, and other bodily fluids, they’re a fucked out mess and Malcolm loves, misses this feeling. 

Malcolm whines when Ian slips out of him. He feels Ian’s come leak out, but then Ian kisses down Malcolm’s neck to his stomach, and while making eye contact, licks Malcolm’s come coated stomach clean while he pushes the fluids back into him. 

Malcolm grips Ian by his hair and pulls him back for another dirty kiss, tasting himself on Ian’s tongue gets his own spent cock to twitch. Ian laughs into their kiss. “Oh baby, give me an hour and we can go again.”

“An hour? Getting old there aren’t you Edgerton?”

Ian responds by grabbing his oversensitive cock, and Malcolm cries. “Not so smug now, huh pretty boy?”

Ian strokes him with a light touch, but Malcolm’s body still shudders from his touch. His body needs rest, but he craves more. He wants to be fingered to another orgasm, have Ian’s mouth on his cock, he wants both at the same time. “Ian…” 

Ian smiles and kisses his cheek. “I got you darling, just relax.” 

Instead of milking him to a second orgasm, Ian massages his hips and thighs, touching him in a way that makes his body feel like jelly. His body actually feels relaxed as well as his mind, something Ian’s always been able to do to him. “Ah, need to sleep pretty boy?”

Malcolm shakes his head, because as relaxed as he is, it’s too early for his brain to actually shut down. “You had food?”

After a few moments they put on their boxers and head to the kitchen. Malcolm takes a seat on the barstool while Ian reheats their food. Ian has pancit and fresh lumpia, while Malcolm pulls at the siopao bun and eats it in small bites. Ian pours a glass of water for himself and Malcolm.

“So, Arroyo…”

Malcolm sighs. He should have expected this to come up. “Yeah?”

“Just...things from class make more sense now.”

He wishes they can just go back to bed for another mind blowing orgasm, but now that his previous and current life have collided, it’s only fair to Ian to explain. He’ll have to do the same will Gil later. 

“I swear I was trying to stay professional. Wouldn’t look good if I hit on my teacher, right?”

Ian chuckles. “No, but every time you bit your lip, let your eyes linger on my body...it was hot. Nice to feel wanted. But you didn’t do that around Arroyo.” 

Malcolm shrugs.  “He was kind of my bi awakening, but he was married and I was a teenager at the time. Had to get over him, and then you came.” Ian doesn’t say anything, just nods and continues eating. “Doesn’t mean you were a replacement Ian, and I’m not sure how to convince you otherwise.” 

Ian isn’t a replacement. He was initially attracted to him for that reason, but he saw their differences the more time he spent with Ian. Then Malcolm realized he was just attracted to older men who could lift him against a wall. 

“Hey kid, it’s okay.” Ian says. “I don’t need convincing. I know I’m not a replacement. I was just surprised. You grew up with Arroyo, right?”

“Kind of. He helped around after my dad was arrested. Just...he wasn’t my replacement dad or anything. He’s an old friend.”

There’s definitely some underlying psychological issues he has of preferring older men, his attraction to Gil that later became an attraction to Ian, wanting praises from all of them including his own father, but Malcolm decides that’s between him and his shrink. 

“Well, your old friend didn’t look too happy with me here.” Ian says. 

“After Swanson tried to take the Watkins case from us I think he’s just tired of FBI butting in. But you being here helps, I swear. I’ll make Gil see it our way.”

He sees how Ian reacts when Malcom says ‘our way’, like old times when Malcolm and Ian would work cases together. They weren’t often paired, but when they were their cases went smoother than other agents could hope for. 

Ian holds Malcolm’s cheek in his palm. “I did mean it, though. Not taking over, don’t even care about the credit. Just trying to catch a killer.”

Malcolm smiles, turning his head to kiss Ian’s hand. 

This is why Malcolm likes Ian. There was talk among other agents, how the man is a loner, would first turn against the bureau to save himself, but working with Ian, Malcolm knows all of that to be untrue. He prefers working alone because no one else understands his methods. He turned on the bureau because they turned on him first. Ian may be about self-preservation, but he does it for justice. He isn’t choosing himself or the job, he chooses both. 

He acted like that with Malcolm, when they began their arrangement. 

For Macolm, being with Ian is easy. In fact, it never necessarily bothered him that they didn’t have a label for their relationship, Malcolm simply hated explaining it to anyone who asked. But when it’s just himself and Ian, it’s when he feels the most at ease. 

Malcolm has enough emotional baggage to fill an entire plane, and a secret skeleton or two in his closet that he’s still trying to figure out. Malcolm knows he’s also too much--he sees everything even before being trained to profile. He’s always looking out for odd signs and details in a person, and one too many times does that get him in trouble. 

Ian isn’t much different. He’s a man tied to his job more than to a person, and has enough resentment with the Bureau’s red tape and corrupted officials that makes him distrust many others. Malcolm’s first year in training, he only ever saw Ian for sniper class, as he was constantly shipped out on cases. 

It was an unspoken rule when they first began sleeping together, about what they were to each other: a distraction. 

Ian distracted him from the nightmares, from the constant profiling, from his father. 

Malcolm distracted him from the injustices, from the jobs that left Ian to fend for himself. 

And it worked, because they were what they needed.

The problem, with both of them, is no matter how hard the work was, no matter what sick and twisted individual got into their head for that day, what victim or survivor stays in their dreams, they were too dedicated to their jobs to stop. 

Sleeping with your coworkers is a bad idea, but for them, it made sense. They were the only person who understood why they just can’t stop, but also understood each other’s needs. 

Malcolm dated in college, though no one serious enough to bring home, and as the past few months proved, Eve wasn’t going to work out either. Ian, despite embodying the definition of flight risk, is a constant that stayed. 

Ian’s not perfect, and hell neither is Malcolm, not by a long shot or hours of therapy, but laying in Ian’s arms, breathing in the older man’s cologne, while he traces patterns onto his back, it’s enough. 

All Malcolm wants is enough.

Though, Malcolm soon realizes the downfall of this type of non-committed relationship when his front door opens, and it’s someone entering his apartment instead of Ian leaving. 

Malcolm’s always been a light sleeper, Ian on the other hand sleeps like the dead when he’s with Malcolm. It’s the only time he’s ever comfortable letting his guard down. 

“Oh sunshine, I know you are still recovering, but Samantha Woodsen is insisting we assist on her daughter’s case.” Jessica comes up the staircases and places her bag on the counter. “I’ve told her I asked for Gil to look over but she’s seen you and Ainsely on the news, she’s asking if ‘Bright’ can also work--and ignoring that I was not invited to her daughter’s charity benefit I told her…” She turns around and finally notices the scattered clothing around his bed, and Malcolm now curses himself for getting a studio instead of a one bedroom, where there’s an actual door.

Not that a door would stop Jessica Whitley. She’d just barge in regardless. 

“Oh, you have company?”

Ian decides, then, to stir awake. He has his arm around Malcolm’s waist, tightening his hold while he buries his face to Malcolm’s back. “Tell them to fuck off.” 

Malcolm holds in a laugh, watching his mother’s curious face, but then curious turns to recognition, as Malcolm thought the same when he first met Ian.

“Malcolm,” Jessica asks slowly, “who is in your bed?”

“...Eve?” He tries. 

“Well that’s rude,” Ian says, finally sitting up and resting his head on Malcolm’s shoulder. “Saying another woman’s name in bed hurts my feelings.” 

There are so many emotions going through Jessica’s face. Malcolm makes out shock, denial, utter confusion, and then fury

“Gil! What are you--!” She takes off her heels and throws it in their direction. Malcolm instinctively covers Ian, who behind him is laughing because he’s an ass. “That’s my son!”

“Mother!” Malcolm stands, and quickly uses a pillow to cover himself since he slept naked. “Mother that’s not Gil!” 

“What do you mean that’s not Gil? Just because he shaved--”

“Wallet.” Malcolm says, pointing to Ian’s discarded jeans on the floor. “Check his ID.” 

Jessica’s ready to grab the next closet item, the snuffed out candle, but she holds it tightly as she goes to check said wallet. She pulls it out and scans over his driver’s license and FBI identification card. Her face returns to shock, and disbelief, as she looks over it. 

“Y-you’re not….?”

“And before you ask, ma’am,” Ian says, “Not related to Lieutenant Arroyo. I’m not close with my family, but I’d definitely know if I had a long lost twin.”

She just continues staring, at his ID cards, at Ian, Malcolm, trying to piece together whatever the hell they’re doing.

“Mother, Ian and I are going to get dressed.” Malcolm says. “And then we can talk?”

She huffs, placing his IDs back into his wallet and tossing it over to the bed. “I’ll be in the lobby, five minutes, and then I’ll be back up.” 

Heel-less, she walks out in just her stockings, slamming the door loudly to prove her point. 

Ian falls back onto the bed in full blown laughter, and Malcolm hits him with his pillow. “You’re an ass .”

“Yeah? And here I wanted your ass this morning.” Ian pulls Malcolm back to his chest, kissing his forehead while his fingers dip into Malcolm’s sloppy hole. 

Malcolm gasps, squirming and wanting to ride Ian’s fingers. But when his mother says five minutes, she means five minutes. “Ian-Ian we have to--”

Ian silences him with a kiss, and, well, when Jessica finds them five minutes later, still under the blanket, sweaty and covered in their own bodily fluids, she throws her purse at them. 


If not for the case, Malcolm knew he would have a long talk with his mother about his long time affair with Agent Edgerton. Fortunately, Blair Woodsen’s mother is on a time crunch, and wants to speak to Bright as soon as possible. 

Mrs. Woodsen welcomes them to her luxury brownstone just miles away from the crime scene. While the building is old, the interior is decorated modernly with signs of recent renovation. 

They sit in her grandiose living room. Malcolm takes notes of the family photos, all formal, done with a professional photographer in a studio. Diplomas from Blair hang above the fireplace, along with her parent’s own awards. It’s the first thing they see when entering the living space, to show the family’s importance and accomplishments. 

“This is Special Agent Edgerton,” Malcolm introduces, “He is also working on this case.”

“FBI, thank god,” Mrs. Woodsen says. “Because I want to know the son of a bitch who hurt my daughter.”

“That’s what we’re here to find out.” Ian reassures. “Can you tell us if you or your daughter have any enemies?”

Mrs. Woodsen scoffs. “Of course we did. We’re real estate law, and after closing a deal on a buyout from Mexico, we’ve been getting threats since.” She then goes off about a plot of land that the Woodsens bought off indigenous lands, and as she casually throws in slurs to describe who may have wanted to target Blair. Ian keeps his face cool, but Malcolm can see the anger building in him. Mrs. Woodsen isn’t paying attention to them, so Malcolm reaches out and squeezes Ian’s thigh.

“What about enemies, here in the states?” Malcolm tries to redirect. The land in Mexico was bought out ten years ago, maybe around the time Blair was in college and out of state, so it feels odd to be targeted now. 

“Well, I can happily say the Whitleys aren’t.” She laughs, though Malcolm doesn’t get the joke. “Oh, but you should look at the Simmons. That daughter of theirs, Kathy, betrayed my baby girl their senior year of high school. They haven’t spoken since, for good reason.”

Ian pauses when he puts the names together. “Kathy Simmons?”

Mrs. Woodsen scoffs at the name as she takes a sip of her tea. “The very same. Heard her husband is a surgeon, working for those underground drug dealers. Definitely should look into them.”

Malcolm and Ian exchange looks. “Mrs. Woodsen,” Malcolm says, “Kathy Simmons and her husband were shot a week ago.”

Mrs. Woodsen finally has the decency to look remorseful at the news. She sets her hands down on her lap. “That... is unfortunate. I’ve always said the gangs in New Jersey were dangerous.”

“We don’t believe it was gang related.” Malcolm says. “Are you sure Blair hasn’t spoken to Kathy since high school?”

“I’m sure. Blair burned their childhood photos the second Kathy…” Mrs. Woodsen stops herself and clears her throat. “Nevermind. Why?”

Ian and Malcolm exchange quick glances. “We believe whoever shot Simmons was the same person who shot your daughter.” Ian says. 

Mrs. Woodsen purses her lips, taking in the information, and she shakes her head. “No, impossible. They haven’t spoken in almost fourteen years. They wouldn’t target my daughter because she hasn’t been involved with the Simmons.”

“Okay but if you can think of someone--”

“Look at those villagers. I hear they have family in the states.” She says tersely. “If that is all you can inform me of then I believe we are done for today. I have a meeting, and then I’m going to see my hospitalized daughter.”

Malcolm apologizes. Gathering their notes he and Ian quickly leave the brownstone, and Mrs. Woodsen makes it known to slam the door. Ian whistles lowly. “Well, she was helpful.”

“She was,” Malcolm says. “We now know they were friends in high school! So there is a further connection.” 

“A loose one, but it’s something.” Ian sighs. “Just wish we knew why Morris and Vander Wolf were wrapped up in this.”

When they get to Ian’s car, Malcolm’s phone rings with Gil’s name showing up. “Hey Gil,” He answers. “Got you on speaker. Ian and I just spoke with Mrs. Woodsen”

There’s an odd silence on the other line, and Malcolm looks to see if the call dropped. “Gil?”

“Sorry, you’re still with Ian?”

“Uh, yeah?” Malcolm says. “I thought my mother told you? Woodsen wanted to talk to me, and I thought I’d bring Ian along too.”

There’s more silence that makes Malcolm nervous. It dawns on him now that if mother told Gil where Malcolm’s going to be, that she may have mentioned what she witnessed that morning. 

“Alright,” Gil says after a beat. “Well we just spoke to the husband’s family. We may have a lead--a disgruntled brother who also attended River View. Does the name Carson Thornton sound familiar? He was in your year.”

Malcolm shakes his head. “No, sorry. I…” tried to forget, but that doesn't leave his lips. He wants to forget everything of his childhood, up until he cut ties with his father the first time around. Remington made more of an impression than River View, still, he was hoping forgetting would make everything hurt less. 

“No, I get it kid.” Gil says, his tone softer. “I’ll send over the address. Let’s rendezvous there if you’re up for it. Otherwise, Edgerton can join us.”

Malcolm hangs up, and a second later an address comes through. 

“Give it here pretty boy.” Ian says. “I can meet your team if you’re not feeling well.”

“What? No, Ian I’m fine . You know me, I just hate remembering...well everything.” 

Ian sees right through him. Malcolm isn’t fine because his own memory is broken, whether it was by drugging himself or forcing old memories so far back he isn’t sure what he’s made up or what’s real. Regardless, Ian holds back any protests and drives off to the address given. 


Carson Thornton lives on the industrial side of the city, lower income apartments and steelwork, a  stark difference than the family home that his brother supposedly lived in. When they arrive Gil, Dani, and JT are already on scene, with Gil looking...disappointed that Malcolm showed up. 

Or maybe he’s looking at Ian. 

“Not exactly a place I’d imagine a trust fund baby living.” JT comments. “The front door to this apartment is broken.”

“Was he completely cut off?” Malcolm asks.

“According to his mother they’re still transferring money.” Dani says. “They haven’t spoken in years but lives off them.”

Ian snorts. “Maybe he’s just bad at managing the money.” 

There’s a sound of a door opening from the otherside of the building. They rendezvous and see a man, six foot, brunette hair, dressed in plain jeans. He turns over to them for a quick second and Malcolm clearly sees it’s Carson. He’s hunched over, like he doesn’t want to be seen, so Malcolm holds his hand out, letting them know to stay back. 

“Hi, excuse me?” Malcolm calls out, keeping his voice casual. “Carson, is that you?”

Carson turns to Malcolm, taking note of his cast and overcoat. Although he’s wearing a suit, Malcolm has no indicating marks he’s police. He then takes a long look at Malcolm’s face, and his own brightens with recognition. 

“Whitley? Man it’s been like, what ten years?”

Malcolm laughs. “A little more than that. Sorry, I was just driving by when I thought I recognized you. Been a while since I’ve seen you and your brother.”

He watches Carson’s face turn sullen. “Yeah, uh, well sorry you may have just missed him. He was shot last night.”

“I’m sorry.” Malcolm says, sincerely. “I uh, actually that’s why I’m here. Can I ask you a few questions about your brother?” 

Carson looks over Malcolm’s shoulder, and he knows he sees everyone waiting by the car. His eyes turn back to Malcolm, panic starting to build. 

“I’m not a cop.” Malcolm says since it’s the truth. “We’d just like to know if you knew anything, or anyone maybe targeting your brother--”

He isn’t sure what triggers Carson, but just as Malcolm realizes he’s about to flee, Carson’s fist collides with Malcolm’s face, and Malcolm back falls hard onto the asphalt. He hears Gil, or maybe it’s Ian, call out to Carson, and vaguely makes out JT running past him. His head spins, the sky is too bright, and someone’s hovering over him, saying his name. 


Malcolm’s dreams are too vivid for his liking. It’s why he always wakes up screaming. He feels every bit of pain his mind forces onto him when he sleeps.

This dream is no different in terms of how close to reality it is. He’s sixteen, wearing his Remington uniform, but he’s in the cafeteria of River View. He wants to take his usual spot, back corner of the room where no one disturbs him, but as he walks over someone sticks their foot out and he trips, spilling his food on the floor and all over himself. He looks up and sees a group of boys and girls laughing. They’re sitting at the popular table.

He can vaguely make out older versions of Blair, with a red stain on her stomach, and Carson, wearing worn jeans and a hoodie. They’re laughing, calling him a klutz, a freak. 

Someone holds their hand out for him, so he takes it.

And he falls on his back.


Malcolm wakes up with a jolt, on a soft bed and his mouth guard in place. It takes a moment for him to realize he’s back in his loft, one had in the restraint. He sits up slowly and sees Dani in the kitchen, going through his pantry and fridge. Malcolm spits out his guard. “Not going to find food. The cabinets are more for show.”

She rushes to his side immediately. “No wonder you weigh like a feather.” Dani says. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine, could have been worse I guess. You punch harder.” He tries to lighten the mood, and although Dani smiles she doesn’t look pleased. “How long was I out?”

She looks at her watch. “Two, three hours?”

Well, despite the dream he does feel rested, physically at least, and hungry. He should have a few eggs and the leftover rice from last night’s take out. It’ll sustain him for now but he definitely needs groceries. 

Malcolm takes out his phone and starts his online grocery order. “Has Carson revealed anything?” He asks when he sees Dani check her phone again. She’s most likely texting JT.

“Nothing related to the case.” She sighs, “but he owes quite a bit to loan sharks. He’s been using his allowance on betting and poker games, hence where he lives.”

“Why did he punch me?” Malcolm touches his cheek, feeling how it’s swelling. 

“Said he thought you were the loan shark.” She says. “Panicked, punched you, didn’t realize we were cops and an FBI agent.” 

“Well, he’ll still probably be charged with assault if Ian and Gil have anything to say about it.” He says with a laugh. Malcolm isn’t pressing anything, too much trouble for someone who isn’t their serial killer. 

“They were...very upset. Edgerton took charge of the interrogation while JT searched his apartment.”

Malcolm winces, knowing how Edgerton rough likes to interrogate. This isn’t his solo case either so he’ll definitely conflict with how Gil runs things. “Gil doing the interrogation too?”

“Yeah, though I doubt they’d get more information besides the loans he owes.”

An odd silence falls between them, and Malcolm knows it’s odd because Dani’s fidgeting with her phone. She looks like she wants to press a question, but she keeps her lips tightly sealed. It occurs to Malcolm, then, that in his open bedroom Ian’s bag is sitting on a chair with his jacket draped over it. If Dani went to use his bathroom she’d see a travel toothbrush, and another set of razors. 

Malcolm runs his hands through his hair. “Go ahead, ask.”

She takes another moment before speaking. “So you and Edgerton...you didn’t say you had a boyfriend.”

Malcolm tries not to laugh at boyfriend , because somehow with Ian it feels juvenile to call themselves that. 

“We’re...not exclusive.”

“Oh,” She says, her tone remorseful. 

“No it’s...we’ve been like this. On and off since...2015? I mean I knew him since I started at the bureau but we didn’t really start this until a few years later.”

“And what is this ?” She asks, gesturing to his bag. 

Emotional constipation between two stubborn men who love sex, but can’t talk about their feelings. “Agents with benefits?” He says with a chuckle. It’s not enough, because worry still paints her face. 

“And you’re okay with that?” She asks . She joins him on the bed, sitting next to him while she helps remove his restraint. 

Malcolm only shrugs. “It works. We’ve both always been workaholics. What we do is just, relief.”

He knows Dani should understand that, she’s just as much absorbed into her work as Malcolm is. 

“Because it didn’t look like that, when you were punched.” Dani says. “Edgerton was livid. And I don’t know him--at all--but I’ve never seen anyone so upset.” 

“He’s protective.” Malcolm reassures. “He’s like that with everyone. I mean Gil’s the same way.” 

“Yeah...he’s not happy too, just so you know. Lecture may be coming your way.”

Malcolm groans. First one from his mother and now Gil, he might as well call his father to get all the adults in his life lecturing him like a child.

Then again, Martin may find the whole thing hilarious instead, and then psychoanalyze why his relationship with Ian is actually a substitute for his life long crush on Gil. And then Martin will probably want to kill Ian, and then GIl.

Don’t call Martin, Malcolm notes. 

“If I promise to stay put will they leave me alone?”

Dani snorts. “I doubt that, though you should stay home anyway. If we need a profile we’ll facetime you instead.”

“Fine, fine.” Malcolm concedes. It’s not like there’s more he can do now anyway. From the sound of it they’re at another dead end anyway. 

When Dani finally trusts he’s not going to run off she leaves him to join everyone back in the precinct. He hasn’t received a text from Gil or Ian yet, so Malcolm is really left to fend for himself to deal with his boredom. 

An hour later his delivery groceries arrive. He brings it back up to his loft and takes out the contents. Though he doesn’t consider himself a skilled cook he can make a few dishes that Ian taught him back in DC. Filipino Spaghetti is something he shouldn’t mess up, and he was able to find the right ingredients from the grocery store he ordered from. 

He’s getting ready to boil some water when a phone rings, except it’s not his. It’s a default ringtone, and it’s coming from the grocery bag. 

Malcolm searches for it and finds it tapped to the inner pocket of the grocery bag. The cell phone is old fashion, definitely a burner, with the caller ID showing Unknown. He takes out his own phone, and quickly pulls up the recorder. Using a napkin, Malcolm holds the phone and answers. 

“Hello?”

He hears wind, maybe a helicopter, and heavy breathing. He’s not sure if his own phone could pick up on that. “ I’m sorry, we didn’t help you .”

It’s a woman’s voice, one that he does not recognize.

“Help me?” Malcolm repeats. 

It sounds like she’s holding back a sob. “ We should have done more. I can’t change the past but I can amend it. I’m sorry Malcolm.”

“Wait who--”

He hears a gunshot, and the phone disconnects. 

Malcolm stops the recording and quickly calls Gil, who answers on the first ring. “Gil! I think the suspect--”

“Kid, I have to call you back.” his breath sounds heavy, and he hears screaming in the background. “Carson was just shot.”

“What?”

“He and his lawyer were leaving the precinct and--shit Edgerton where are you going?!!” 

He knows exactly where--Ian’s going to find the shooter. 

“I’ll be down there!” 

“Malcolm--”

He hangs up before Gil can argue against him. 


As expected the precinct is in a frenzy. There are several news outlets trying to report, but are barricaded by the tape and officers not allowing entrance. Of course, Ainsley is also on scene, and she calls over Malcolm when she sees him trying to get by. He quickly apologizes to her and runs into the precinct. 

He finds Gil, Dani, and JT in Gil’s office. Gil’s usual sweater is off, so all he has on is his black tank top. His sweater is draped over a chair and Malcolm sees the blood splatter, and it dawns on him Gil must have been walking Carson out when it just happened. 

“What are you doing here Bright?” He asks, tone clipped.

Malcolm doesn’t let it bother him. Instead he gives the disposable cell phone. “I think the killer called me.” 

Everyone in the office shares the same shocked expression. 

“That cell phone was in my grocery bag. It took almost an hour for it to be delivered, and maybe just five minutes after I received it she called me.”

“I’m sorry, she?” Gil asks. 

“Yeah, definitely a woman’s voice. She said “ I’m sorry we didn’t help you .” 

Dani eyes the phone. “We… who’s we?”

Malcolm shrugs. “ We should have done more. I can’t change the past, but I can amend it . She switches between we and I--we in the past, but I in the present.”

“This just isn’t making sense.” JT says, clearly frustrated. “Why does the shooter know you? You didn’t even know Woodsen or Thornton.”

“I’m clearly missing something back when I went to River View. The Woodsens, Simmons, and Thorntons were targets because they all went to River View, but I’m not. And neither were the first two victims.” It’s really starting to sound like the first two victims are just a coincidence. Shootings happen all the time, even if they are shot by snipers.

Another phone rings, but this time it’s Gil’s. “God, he finally calls back--” Gil says as he answers. “Where the hell did you run off to Edgerton?”

“He’s not here. The shooter couldn’t have more than five minutes but he escaped.”

“She,” Malcolm corrects. 

She who? Malcolm what are you doing there?”

The sniper is a woman.” Malcolm explains. “Come back, you need to catch up.”


It feels like they’re back to square one, and what’s worse is Morris and Vander Wolf may have nothing to do with this at all. If they catch this sniper, there are still two other victims unaccounted for--a killer still on the loose. 

All they can do is focus on New York. The assailant is clearly looking for targets in New York, specifically those who attended River View. Malcolm needs a yearbook just to get an idea of the target pool, and who may potentially be next. 

Woodsen doesn’t answer when he tries to call her, and the Thorntons are inconsolable after another son died in the same manner. He’ll have to do it tomorrow. So their investigation ends tonight. 

Malcolm and Ian drive back to his loft in silence, but he can tell how frustrated Ian is that the sniper just slipped past him. She’s not only skilled in shooting, but in disappearing as well. Ian’s a tracker, so the fact she continues to evade him guts him. 

Ian’s still quiet when they enter the loft. Malcolm doesn’t like it when he quietly fumes, refusing to let his frustrations be known even though anyone could tell how he feels. He shuts people out. 

Then again, Malcolm does the same thing. 

“I’m going to take a shower.” He says. Malcolm nods and lets him go. The groceries on the counter are still spayed out, with a pot of water sitting on the stove, not yet boiled. He might as well finish, otherwise it’s another night of take out. 

He just gets the pasta in the boiling water, and a pan to heat the sauce, when Ian emerges, wearing a pair of boxers and a white shirt. He looks refreshed, though still upset. “You’re cooking?”

Malcolm smiles. “I was trying to. Thought you’d like a home cooked meal.” 

The smile on Ian’s face makes Malcolm blush. Ian reaches out and pulls Malcolm into a hug, kissing the top of his head. “Oh Bright.”

Malcolm pulls Ian down for a kiss that quickly turns desperate. Ian pushes Malcolm until his back hits the refrigerator door, his hands going for Malcolm’s belt as he undoes it. 

“Ian, the food.” Malcolm laughs through the kiss.

Ian bites Malcolm’s lower lip and pulls back. “You’re right. Go shower Malcolm. I’ll take care of this.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, come on go.” He lets Malcolm walk past him, but not before spanking him first. 

A hot shower does do wonders to a wary body. He doesn’t even realize the odd knots and aches until he’s under it. Malcolm realizes how long he was under there, because when he’s out, also in a comfortable pair of night clothes, Ian’s plating up the spaghetti. Ian licks the sauce from his fingers, in no way trying to be obscene, but Malcolm focuses on the way his tongue darts out anyway. 

“Thanks for helping.” Malcolm says.

“Thank you for thinking of me.” Once he has everything plated, and the leftovers in a container, Ian places the dirty dishes into the sink, and then scoops Malcolm in his arms for a possessive kiss. 

The food’s forgotten about for a dirty and quick fuck. Ian props him up against a wall, grinding his covered cock with Malcolm’s while kissing with passion and heat. Somewhere, at some point, Ian finds the lubricant and fingers Malcolm while still resting on the wall, and with Malcolm’s legs wrapped around Ian’s waist. 

Ian’s shirt comes off, and Malcolm claws at his back when Ian enters him, thrusting with brute force. Ian bites at Malcolm’s neck and chest, while Malcolm chants his name like a prayer. It doesn’t take long for either to finish, with Ian filling him up, while Malcolm spills between their stomachs. 

Ian lays him on the bed gently and kisses him through their post orgasm bliss. Malcolm’s shirt is ruined for the night, so he takes it off and tosses it aside while Ian cleans them up with a damp paper towel. It’s after more kisses, and a new shirt, when they finally settle down on the kitchen island to eat. 

It’s a comfortable silence between them, the tension from earlier lifted. When they finish, Ian insists on doing the dishes while Malcolm waits in bed, ipad back in his lap as he takes notes of everything today. Ian eventually slips into bed, wrapping his arm around Malcolm’s waist to lie next to him.

“I think I’m going to River View tomorrow.” Malcolm tells him. 

“Alone?”

“If no one is available.” Malcolm says. He doesn’t mind going alone to this school (he will never set foot in Remington unless the headmaster died), though with a killer knowing his name and address, he gets why alone isn’t a good idea. “Maybe I’ll ask JT or Dani, you and Gil are going to continue from yesterday right?” 

“Yeah, but I can go with you first if you’d like.” 

Malcolm shakes his head. “Best you stick with Gil, maybe you two will find something. I’m just following a hunch.”

Ian accepts that answer. He turns off the lights and places Malcolm’s night guard in his mouth. They fall asleep for a second time together.

But Malcolm dreams of River View again. 

The distortion confuses him more, as the campuses of River View and Remington overlay each other. Vijay’s playing soccer on a field that belongs to River View, yet wears the Remington uniform. Malcolm’s sitting on the benches, watching his friend kick the ball into a pool. The soccer players then play on top of the water, like it’s solid. He hears the laughter of Blair, Henry, Kathy, Carson, and another set of faces that he can’t make out. He hears Vijay warning him to run. 

And Malcolm falls. 

Ian doesn’t wake up when Malcolm jolts back to consciousness. It’s not one of his most violent ways he’s woken up next to Ian, so he feels comfortable to go back to sleep and overthink what his dreams are telling him. 

He hates that he can’t blame his father for these memories. 

He hates it more that his mother still comes into the loft unannounced the next morning, demanding the three of them go for breakfast. 

“I can eat.” Ian says, still under the covers while he kisses Malcolm’s thighs.

Malcolm frowns and lightly hits Ian’s head. “Don’t you have a case?” 

“Nonsense, the crime scene will be a crime scene.” Jessica says. “Besides, I invited Gil too.”

Malcolm falls back into bed. He’s starting to think a room in Claremont will save him.