AN: This chapter picks up pretty much right after the last one.
It would have been nice, Reese thought to himself later, if Malcolm had given him a heads up on what to expect when he came to pick the two of them up.
But no, all he got was another middle of the night phone call and a lot of slurred speech and laughter.
"What?" Reese groaned into the phone, looking at the clock.
5:00 A.M. God damn it.
There was a giggle on the other end. Then, "Reese? Reeeeese?"
Reese frowned. "Malcolm? Are you...are you drunk?" Some more giggling on the line, and Reese thought he heard another voice in the background. "Uh, hello? Malcolm?"
"Reese! We're, ugh..." - a hacking cough - "We're at the, we're drink- no we're drunk. We're drunk! At the...at the bar! The bar, Reese!"
"What?" Reese flipped on the bedside lamp, sitting up groggily. "What the f-...what bar? There are like twenty in the city."
"The birth...the bar of, you know? Reese? Reese?"
"I'm here! Stop saying my name! What's the name of the fucking bar?"
More insane laughter. "I...I can't...here's Dad, he'll tell you."
Some fumbling noises. More laughing. Then, "Hell...hello? Reese, is that you?"
"Yes, Dad, it's me," Reese hissed through gritted teeth. "Could you tell me where you guys are, please?"
"Oh, yeah...yeah, sure. Uh...uh...it's that...uh, you know...?" - Reese rolled his eyes - "...that, oh! It's that place where the three of...the three of us took Malcolm for his birthday...for his birthday a few years ago. Reese? His birthday? Reese?"
"Okay, Dad. I remember," Reese said, switching on the computer to search for directions. "Just stay there, I'll be there really soon, okay?"
"Okay, son!...Reese?"
Reese hung up and tossed the phone onto the bed. He printed off the directions, put on some clothes, and went down to the bus stop.
He wasn't too pissed off at the situation; Malcolm had been forced to come pick him up many times before, so the least he could do was return the favor. That said, he was not at all prepared for the greeting he received upon his arrival.
"Hey!" Malcolm and Hal slurred in unison, arms slung around each other's shoulders.
Reese sighed and walked over to the bartender, who looked like she really wanted to go home. "Hi," he said wearily. "I'm their ride."
She blinked at him and slid Malcolm's car keys over the counter. "Thank God," she muttered dully.
Reese turned to his father and brother, who had approached him while his back was turned. "Okay, so let's g-" He was cut off.
By Malcolm kissing him. On the lips.
In front of the entire bar.
Well, admittedly, the entire bar consisted of the three of them, plus the bartender, and she clearly didn't give a fuck. But still. A kiss on the lips. In front of their father.
And it wasn't something that could even conceivably be passed off as a drunken greeting. Malcolm totally laid one on him, and Reese, too surprised by the unexpectedness of it, simply froze up and didn't push him away. It was wet and sloppy, and Malcolm's breath tasted like booze, and it lasted at least ten seconds. And when Malcolm finally pulled away with a moronic grin, Reese just stared at him, jaw hanging on the floor, then turned to look at Hal with wide eyes.
And Hal's reaction was, if at all possible, even more surprising. True, he sort of looked like he was in pain, but more of a some-just-pinched-me kind of pain than a someone-punched-me-in-the-gut kind. And that aside, he was so drunk, he actually looked amused.
"Well now," he said, drooling slightly. "Way to hit me with it all at once."
Reese looked between his father and brother, eyes getting rounder and rounder every second. "Wh-? I...what the...what?"
Malcolm tried to sling an arm around his shoulder, but missed and ended up slapping him upside the head. "Oops," he giggled, putting a hand to his mouth. "Sorry, sweetie."
"Sw-?" Reese gaped at him, then stared at Hal, who was now laughing uncontrollably. "Can someone please tell me what the fuck is going on?"
"He knows, Reese," Malcolm said seriously, his face solemn for a moment of clarity. "We talked and...uh, well, he knows."
Reese just stared, his mind not quite able to process everything. He closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands. "What?" he said dully.
Hal's hand clamped down on the back of his neck in what at first seemed like an attack, but relaxed into an attempt at comfort. "I know, son," he said gently, pressing down on Reese's skin to try and stay balanced as he wobbled with a glass in his other hand. "I know, buddy...and it's gonna be...gonna be OKAY!"
He shouted that last word and Reese cringed, looking around to make dead certain there was no one else in the bar. "Okay, Dad," he said in a small voice, feeling a little sick. "Okay." Hal's eyes rolled back briefly, and Reese reached out to take the glass. "I think you've had enough of that," he said firmly, setting it down on the counter.
Hal's lip pouted out in disappointment, and had the situation been different, Reese might have laughed at the comical expression. But he was still in shock, and just wanted to get them the hell out of there.
Getting between Malcolm and Hal, he supported them and gingerly walked them out to the car, pausing at the door to apologize the bartender for the trouble. (She didn't respond.) He imagined they looked ridiculous, stumbling in the parking lot like a weird, three-headed creature. He managed to get the back door open by himself and pushed Hal in. Malcolm's head began to loll back, and Reese quickly gathered his brother up in his arms. He noted with some annoyance that their position was strikingly reminiscent of that of a cheesy romance novel cover.
Even through his drunken haze, this irony was not lost on Malcolm, who giggled quietly and blinked up at Reese, relaxing into his grasp. "My hero," he whispered sarcastically.
Reese blushed and scowled. "Whatever."
With a grunt, he lifted Malcolm up into his arms, carried him around to the passenger's seat, and set him down gently. Glancing into the back, he saw Hal lying across both seats, snoring heavily with his feet still poking out the door. Reese rolled his eyes and went back to other side of the car to sit his father up.
"Nn..." Hal groaned in protest as Reese buckled him in.
"It's alright, Dad," he said impatiently. "Just try to stay awake until we get home...and try not to puke on the upholstery."
He went back again to Malcolm's side of the car and leaned in to buckle him in as well.
"Hey...Reese?"
"What?" he snapped. Malcolm flinched and Reese felt sorry immediately. He stroked his brother's cheek affectionately. "What?" he said again in a softer tone.
"I'm cold," Malcolm whispered sheepishly. He jerked his head to the side. "There's...a...there's a blanket...in the trunk."
Reese nodded. "Okay, just a sec." He went to the back of the car, fumbling around for the keys in his pocket. He popped the trunk and spotted the blanket. But when he reached for it, he paused, noticing the duffel bag a foot away.
Malcolm woke up around 1:00 in the afternoon with a serious hangover. He pulled himself out of bed, grumbling incoherently all the way to the bathroom.
Somewhere in the middle of the shower, he sobered up enough to remember the events of the previous night. Specifically the less-than-appropriate reveal to Reese that he had told Hal the truth.
"Damn it," he muttered, lathering his hair with shampoo.
Clean and dressed, he went out into the living room where Reese was sitting at the table with a cup of coffee and some papers.
"Good morning," Reese said, not looking up.
"Good afternoon, actually," Malcolm replied, scratching the back of his head ruefully.
Reese glanced up at the clock on the wall and nodded. "Good afternoon," he agreed, taking a sip from his mug.
Malcolm gestured at the cup. "Since when do you drink coffee?" He frowned. "And why do we even have a coffee maker in the first place?"
"Dad made a pot this morning." He shrugged. "No reason to waste the rest, right?" A pause. "And...I have no idea why we have a coffee maker..."
"Huh..." Malcolm sat down across from his brother, causing the rickety chair to creak. "So where is the old man, anyway?"
"Went home," Reese responded, still not looking up from his papers. "After we talked."
Malcolm felt his stomach turn. "Oh. Yeah...how'd that go?"
"Not too bad, actually. Mostly because he had a killer hangover, but I also got the idea that he was more confused than angry. Said we needed to give him time to get used to it. Which was a hell of a lot more than I was expecting from him, so no complaints there."
Malcolm nodded, relieved. "Yeah, no kidding." Deciding to change the subject, he pointed at the papers on the table. "What's all this for?"
"Work. I have to review the accident report for the leakage the other day...and no, I have no idea what this shit says. But all I have to do is sign my initials in like fifty different places. So I guess it doesn't really matter."
Malcolm snorted. "Apparently not." After a beat or two, he frowned, noting that Reese still hadn't looked up. He leaned forward a bit. "Hey, is everything okay?"
Reese swept everything up into a pile and stuck it in a folder. Then looked up. His eyes were stone cold. "I brought in your bag," he said blankly.
"My bag?" Malcolm's brow furrowed in confusion. "What bag?"
"Your duffel bag. From the trunk. I brought it in last night. It's in the closet."
After another moment or two of not getting it, realization came in an overwhelming, fresh wave of horror. Malcolm's throat grew tight. He swallowed dryly. "Oh," he whispered.
He and Reese looked into each other's eyes for a minute, each trying to gauge the other's reaction. Then Reese stood and headed for the front door.
Malcolm bolted up from his chair and followed him. "Reese. Reese, wait."
Reese paused, his hand on the doorknob. His shoulders slumped. "Yeah?" he asked quietly.
Malcolm paused. He wasn't sure what exactly to say. "I...look, this...I..." He sighed, running a hand through his still-wet hair. "This is not...what it looks...Okay, scratch that. This is a complicated...I..."
Reese lifted his gaze and shook his head, effectively silencing Malcolm. "Don't," he said gently.
"I..." Malcolm felt his blood pumping furiously. He swallowed again. "Don't you want me to tell you?" he whispered croakily. "I think I owe you that much."
Reese looked at him blankly. "Honestly, dude...I'm afraid to know." He turned the doorknob and stepped out. "I'm going on a walk," he called. "Be back later."
Then the door clicked shut, and Malcolm was left standing alone.
AN: And that's Chapter 8. Alright, I should warn you all, the darker material is coming up now. Just so you know. (The story won't end in total despair, so rest assured of that, those of you who crave happy endings. That said, the ending will be pretty twisted. Not all smiles and roses. Fair warning.)
