After some heated debate, it was decided that Malcolm would be the one to talk to Hal and Lois, since Reese was likely to let slip about Francis, or worse, about what had transpired last afternoon in the garage. After a few hours of preparation, making sure that their stories matched up, and a stern reminder to "not make me look like a pussy," Reese snuck off to the park, leaving Malcolm to break the news.
It didn't go over particularly well. Not that Malcolm had expected it to.
They weren't even sure what he was trying to tell them at the outset.
"What are you talking about, Malcolm?" Lois asked suspiciously, her arms folded, eyebrows narrowed distrustingly. "What do you mean?"
"I mean what I said...Reese was...attacked."
Lois raised an eyebrow, glancing over at Hal who rolled his eyes over his coffee mug. She turned back, taking a deep breath, obviously trying to stay calm. "Malcolm, you called your father and me to come home from work early because of an emergency, and we're obliging you, but get to the point. What did he do exactly? He's not suspended, is he?"
Malcolm groaned internally. "No, that's not...no, Mom. This wasn't a school thing. And he didn't do anything, okay? And I didn't say you had to come home early, just that you needed to make time to talk about something important." He paused. "Someone outside of school attacked Reese." Lois and Hal stared at him expectantly. Their faces read And? "...uh...and..." Malcolm stammered. "...and he got hurt...he was hurt pretty badly..."
Hal set down his mug, and Lois sat down.
Well, at least they're paying attention now.
"Alright, Malcolm..." Lois drummed her fingernails on the table, slightly less suspicious but still wary. "So you say this wasn't his fault. That he did nothing...So what you're telling us is that some complete stranger beat up your brother on the street after school for no reason at all? Is that it?"
Jesus. This is not starting out well...
Malcolm hesitated. "It was...a...it was a sexual thing." He paused, trying to gauge their reaction.
After a second's confusion, the lights clicked on. Lois's suspicion vanished, replaced by a cold, blank stare.
Hal just looked horrified. "Oh my God..." he muttered, placing a hand over his mouth.
Lois's fingers were digging into the table. "Who was it?" she whispered dangerously. "Who did this?"
Malcolm bit his lip. This was the tricky part. Lois could sniff out a lie like a bloodhound, and he couldn't afford to mess this up. Not unless he wanted to drag Francis into the middle of this. Which would just make everything blow up in the worst possible way. It was better for everyone to just focus on making Reese better instead of going on a warpath of vengeance.
"It was just a stranger, Mom. No one we know." He paused. Time for one more lie. "It happened two days ago. Just the one time. He took the long way walking home, and some guy pulled him into an alley. And...you know..."
"Oh my God..." Hal repeated, putting his head down on the table.
Lois stood and started pacing, running a hand through her hair. "Where is Reese?" she asked. "I want to see him right now."
Malcolm stood up and moved toward her cautiously. "He's out, waiting for us to finish up here." He grabbed onto to her arm as she reached for the car keys on the counter. "But," he said gently, petting her arm in an attempt to calm her, "He wanted me to be the one to talk to you. He doesn't feel like discussing it just yet."
"Oh my God..."
Lois smacked her hand on the counter, yanking away from Malcolm's grasp. "Oh for crying out loud, Hal! Stop saying that!" Her voice contained all of the energy and rage as any one of her pre-punishment tirades, but her eyes were tearing up, and Malcolm could see her quavering with helplessness. She looked sick. "I need to see him right now."
Malcolm shook his head. "Not yet. I promised him I wouldn't let you go after him until you'd calmed down enough to drive carefully."
Hal looked up. Unlike Lois, he was making no attempt to hide his tears. "Why didn't he come to us when this happened?" he croaked. "He wouldn't...he doesn't...does he not trust us?"
Malcolm swallowed the growing lump in his throat. He hated seeing his father cry. "No, Dad, it's not that at all. He's just...uncomfortable. He felt too embarrassed to have to tell you himself." He sighed. "You can understand that, right? I mean...it's Reese. He only talked to me because I was there when he was in an emotional state. We're actually lucky when you think about it." Lois shot him a death glare. "What I mean," he added hastily, "is that some kids don't tell their parents for years. Or at all, even. So there's that."
So all in all, it was about as successful as Malcolm had predicted: not especially, but not a complete disaster either. He managed to keep them at bay, fielding off various questions until Hal stopped weeping and Lois's nostrils stopped flaring, and then revealed Reese's location, whereupon they leapt up from the table and were backing out of the driveway in roughly 30 seconds.
Lois's yelling, Hal's tears, and their collective hysteria were all things Malcolm was prepared to deal with. He'd had years of practice. What he wasn't ready for was the look on Dewey's face when he opened the bedroom door.
Fuck.
It was the one part of his and Reese's plan they hadn't accounted for. Malcolm internally kicked himself for forgetting about his younger brother's tendency to eavesdrop at the most inconvenient times.
Dewey was lying on the bed with his arms folded behind his head, staring unseeingly at the ceiling, sniffling a little bit.
Malcolm sighed as he sat down beside him.
"So...how much of that did you hear?"
Dewey rolled over, turning his face away. "Enough," he replied.
Malcolm lay down as well, respectfully not watching while Dewey wiped his eyes. "I'm sorry you found out that way," he started delicately. No response. "You know we would have told you, too. Eventually. Probably." Dewey rolled over to stare daggers at him. "Okay, probably not, but can you blame him? I mean, come on, this is a really personal situation."
Dewey sniffed, still glaring. "I know, I know. But we're family. I would have told you if something like this had happened to me."
Malcolm shot him a disbelieving expression. "Seriously?"
"Yeah, I would have. Why is that so hard to believe?"
Malcolm shrugged, looking back at the ceiling thoughtfully. "I don't know. I guess just because I would probably have kept it to myself. If it was me, I mean." He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and trying to block out images of Reese and Francis that had periodically sprung, unbidden, into his mind over the past two days. "Give Reese a little credit. He's been dealing with this for sever-" He cut off, the blood running cold. "F-f-for several days now. A couple days, I mean. My point is, he's going through a lot right now and if he thinks about his own feelings ahead of yours or Mom's or Dad's, then I think he can be forgiven."
Shit, that was too close. No more slips like that.
But Dewey didn't seem to notice. He turned over and wrapped his arms around Malcolm's waist, burying his face into his t-shirt.
And nothing needed to be said. Malcolm returned the hug, comforting his little brother while he cried silently.
They had fallen asleep by the time Reese got back. He tip-toed over to the bed where Malcolm and Dewey were still sprawled out, snoring loudly. He shook Malcolm awake from a dream and mouthed "Let's go talk," and jerked his head toward the window.
Malcolm nodded sleepily and followed him outside to the garage. Even through his weary haze, he couldn't help but feel his heart jump into his throat as they sat back in the same space they had shared yesterday. The room was dark this time, but a sliver of light from the window was shining across the top half of Reese's face. Across his wide, beautiful eyes. Malcolm felt himself getting hot and bothered.
Not now. Fight it...
"Uh...so..." he said, swallowing back his lust. "So how'd it go with Mom and Dad?"
Reese shrugged. "Okay, I guess. Dad just cried the whole time and kept saying he loved me and shit. And Mom yelled at me for not telling her myself. And for 'taking the long way home.' Nice one, by the way."
The corners of Malcolm's mouth twitched upward in a smile. "Thanks. Sorry I couldn't placate her. I was barely able to keep her from running out the door the instant she figured it out."
Another shrug. "Yeah, it's cool. I don't think she's too mad, really. She hugged me for like twenty minutes after she stopped yelling. Probably just needed to get it out of her system. After all, she didn't ground me or anything like that."
"Sounds about right."
They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes listening to the crickets chirping outside, enjoying each other's closeness, both in proximity and in feeling.
Malcolm turned to look at Reese, who was already staring at him, a hungry expression on his face. "So..." he said, surprising himself with the huskiness of his voice, "...do you want to talk some more, or do you want to go to bed, or...what?"
He could see the white flash of Reese's teeth as he grinned in the shadows. "Hmm...I think 'what' sounds like the best choice. If you're game?" He reached out tentatively, massaging Malcolm's neck with one hand, and pulling him closer with the other.
"Y-y-yeah," Malcolm stuttered, momentary suaveness dissolved in the sudden overwhelming need to touch Reese's body. He allowed himself to be pulled into a kiss (Our second kiss; not that anyone's counting) and snaked his hands up the back of Reese's shirt.
They sat like that for a while, making out with unrestrained passion, hands grasping at each other's backs, eventually stripping off each other's clothes down to their boxers (and socks, which Malcolm couldn't quite kick off and didn't have the energy to really care). It took a few failed attempts at pulling his brother forward for Malcolm to realize, with a jolt of surprise, that Reese wanted him to be the dominant one. Forcing his mind not to follow through on the implications of that, and choosing instead to attribute Reese's apparently preferred dynamic to something other than Francis, Malcolm obliged, pushing Reese onto his back and straddling him awkwardly.
Both panting, the two boys stared into each other's eyes; Malcolm looking down nervously, desperate to please, and Reese looking up with a broad smile, eyes full of adoration. Malcolm had never seen that expression on his brother's face before, and it made him feel weak in the knees.
"Dude..." he said, absentmindedly stroking Reese's cheek with his thumb, "...this is beyond weird." Reese's smile faltered just a little. "But good," Malcolm added. "It feels good, too."
Reese's eyes lit up again. "Yeah?" he asked breathlessly, hands toying with the waistband of Malcolm's underwear.
"Yeah, it does," Malcolm replied, starting to move his hips rhythmically against Reese's, grinning cockily. Reese let out a moan, which Malcolm stifled with his hand. "Shh...we can't wake anyone up, remember?" Reese nodded, eyes dark with need and excitement.
Malcolm removed his hand and Reese whispered, "I bet I can make it feel even better."
"Oh, really?"
"Yeah." His eyes gleamed with a familiar competitive spark. "I bet I can make you feel better than you can make me feel."
Malcolm stared disbelievingly at him. "Dude...are you being serious right now?"
Reese's smile widened, his hands massaging Malcolm's lower back. "Are we on?"
Oh, he wants to play this way? Fine.
Malcolm leaned down and licked a trail up Reese's neck to his ear, provoking a small whimper. He whispered softly, "Oh, we're on."
Reese reached into the waistband of Malcolm's boxers and yanked them down roughly. "Good. Get ready to lose, sucker," he whispered back, slipping off his own underwear.
Even in the heat of the moment, Malcolm couldn't help but appreciate the irony of the situation. Here they were, taking an enormous, irreversible step into new territory, doing the one thing that, considering the circumstances, should have sent Reese flying into a panic and destroyed their relationship forever. But instead, in the middle of this newfound facet of their sexual identities, they were behaving...like they always did. Like brothers. And somehow, while he was painfully aware of that fact as he trailed kisses down Reese's chest and stomach, Malcolm felt more amused by the revelation than grossed out or disturbed. It was still weird, but it didn't seem as unnatural as he had expected.
They were a perfect match, really. Neither of them had ever succeeded much in opening up to people, opting instead to hide their vulnerability behind masks: violence and intelligence. They both desperately wanted to be accepted, but didn't believe it was worth it to let their guards down for anyone. Except each other. They spent practically all of their free time together, other than those few times during the week when Malcolm hung out with Stevie and Reese dragged Dewey to assist in various pranks.
They were two sides of the same coin, bringing out the best and the worst in each other.
Reese grabbed Malcolm's hair pulling him roughly back up into another kiss. Their naked limbs smacked against the solid floor as they rubbed increasingly faster against one another.
Malcolm pulled away for a breath. "Do you want to lay something down? Like a blanket? Or something?"
Reese shook his head distractedly. "No, no, this is good. Don't stop now."
It was Malcolm's turn to moan as Reese latched onto his neck and bit down playfully, sucking and licking with vigor.
"Careful, or you'll give me a hickey."
Reese chuckled, pleased with himself. "That's the plan."
"Reese!"
"Alright, alright...I'll just have to try something else then," he said with a wicked smile, and started moving down Malcolm's body.
"Wh-what are you doing?" Malcolm asked, panicking.
"Lie down," Reese responded, moving further and further down.
And down.
And down.
And...
Malcolm saw white, and the next thing he knew he was breathing like he'd just run a marathon with Reese lying next to him, breathing just as hard and wiping his mouth.
"Oh my God..." Malcolm said.
"Told you I could make you feel better. I win," Reese panted, smirking smugly.
Malcolm resisted the urge to retort and just laughed shakily. "Yeah, okay. You win." He looked down at himself and then over at Reese. "There's no...there's no mess..."
"Damn right there's not."
Malcolm put a hand on his forehead, wiping the sweat away. "Oh my God..." And for whatever reason, in that moment, he was reminded of Hal's exclamation earlier in the kitchen, and he felt a little paranoid. He turned to look at his brother directly. "Hey...are you sure you're okay with this?"
Reese raised an eyebrow. "Seriously? You're not convinced. What the hell do I have to do?"
"No, no, I mean...are you sure you're okay to do this...now. Like, I mean, you don't feel pressured...you didn't feel like you had to do that because...you know?"
Reese's expression softened; took on that most un-Reese-like loving quality that Malcolm was still trying to get used to. He reached over and stroked Malcolm's face. "No, it's not about that. I promise." He stretched his feet out, popping the toes. "I'm going to see a shrink on Thursday," he added. "Mom said that was the only way I didn't have to talk to her through everything. Probably a good idea, since I think I'd let something slip if I had to tell her about it." Malcolm nodded in agreement, taking ahold of his brother's hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.
They lay there in the afterglow, steadying their breathing and staring into each other's eyes until the sappiness and nauseating romanticism of the moment caught up to them, and they snuck around to side of the house, opting to use the hose instead of running the risk of waking anyone up with the shower. They washed the sweat off of each other and returned to the garage for their clothes.
And then, on the way back inside, Reese reached out and stopped Malcolm, looking at him quizzically.
"What about you?" he asked.
Malcolm frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I mean..." Reese trailed off, looking somewhat uncomfortable. He shifted back and forth on his feet, putting his hands in his pockets. "I mean about...earlier. Back when you were going through your stuff. How are you doing with...all that?"
"Oh." Malcolm was surprised. They had never talked about his suicide attempt since that day, all those months ago. And even then, they hadn't really talked about it. There hadn't really been a need. Nonverbal communication had always come more naturally to them; silly as it was, somehow saying horrible things out loud made them seem all the more real. That was why Reese had never actually mentioned the word "suicide." And it was why Malcolm would bring up the word "rape."
He stopped himself mid-shrug, resisting the temptation to give a dismissive "It's all good" kind of answer. Instead he looked down at the grass and pondered the question.
"Well," he finally said, after a few minutes had gone by, "Pretty good, I guess. I haven't been that bad since...then. And I've definitely never considered trying it again." He glanced up at Reese, who looked immensely relieved.
"Well...that's great. I'm glad."
"Yeah. Things are still tough sometimes, but I don't feel too overwhelmed anymore. I feel like I can handle my life now, even when things get really hard." He paused. "And a lot of that is thanks to you."
Reese looked at him blankly for a few seconds, then frowned. "Don't get all mushy on me, or I'll kick the crap out of you."
Malcolm snorted and punched him in the shoulder. "Whatever, dude."
They stood awkwardly in the cool night breeze, smiling at each other.
"Oh," Malcolm said, sighing heavily. "I forgot to mention...Dewey knows. About your thing, I mean."
Reese's smile vanished, replaced by distraught. "Aww...seriously? What the fuck?"
"I know, I'm sorry. It was an accident. He was listening in while I was talking to Mom and Dad."
Reese groaned. "Shit, shit, shit..."
"Well...on the bright side, he doesn't know any more than they do. Meaning, he doesn't know...who it was."
Reese shivered slightly, looking away. Malcolm fidgeted uncomfortably, rocking back and forth on his feet. After a bit Reese whispered, "You know it's not over."
Malcolm looked up in alarm. "Wait...what? What do you mean, Reese?"
"I mean, you know we are going to have to deal with this later, right?" Malcolm's brow creased in confusion. "He isn't going to just not talk to us ever again. Even if it's not for a long time, eventually he's going to want to see us again. And then we're gong to have to deal with it."
Malcolm nodded wearily. "Yeah, I know."
They let it all sink in for a few minutes, standing out in the night air, surrounded by the noises of the wildlife. A frog croaked off in the distance somewhere.
"Come on," Reese said, gesturing towards the house. "Let's go to bed."
And somehow, either through sheer fortune or exhaustion from the events of the day, Malcolm managed to fall into deep slumber within moments of placing his head on his pillow.
And he didn't dream.
AN: There's Chapter 3. I hope you're enjoying it so far. It's been fun to write.
