He had to walk Malcom up. The stairway was narrow and awkward, but miles better than letting Malcom nock some teeth out on the concrete steps.
The second they were inside Malcom stumbled away again, muttering something about "undercabinet."
JT let him go, trusting he'd hear a crash if Malcom went down again.
He used the moment alone to shoot a text to Gil. All fine mostly. At Malcom's call me wehn you can.
It got flagged as read almost immediately.
He did not use his time waiting to judge Malcom's apartment. He didn't. Even though it would be easy. Who keeps literal weapons on display like it's a trophy cabinet? And that's not to mention the piles and piles of textbooks with amazingly boring names. Seriously. The whole space was as utterly baffling as Malcom himself was.
When Malcom reappeared he looked a little more like himself. He had fixed his hair, and shed his nice coat for a hoodie. Most of the dried blood had been scrubbed from his face.
"I appreciate the ride." He said, setting the first aid kit he was carrying on the coffee table. His voice still sounded stilted, a little unnatural, but at least he was using it.
"Sure," JT nodded, but remained where he was standing.
After a moment of silence Malcom coughed and tried to shoo him again. "I'll see you at work tomorrow." He had busied himself with the contents of the first aid kit, back turned to JT.
"Oh, no. No you're not getting rid of me that easily." JT held up his phone so that Malcom could see the novel of a text Gil had just sent him. "You wanna argue? Take it up with Gil."
Malcom turned to face him, and if there was a moment he was going to lose his shit this might be it. Not that JT would blame him, he'd kind of been preparing for it all morning. Malcom had more than earned a moment to lose his shit, to scream and throw things and break something. But he didn't.
The tension went in a hissing sigh and half shrug. "I wasn't expecting…" Malcom gestured vaguely around the apartment. Then to himself. "y'know?"
"Listen, I can't take no for an answer. But if you eat something and call Ainsley then I can at least stop breathing down your neck."
He watched Malcom think it over.
"I know a pizza place down the block, and they deliver 24/7."
"Fine." Malcom turned back to the first aid kit. "Do you like pepperoni?"
"On it," JT Said, already dialing.
After a short call, pizza was on the way. The poor teenager who had picked up had been very sweet, if not a little confused. It took a bit repeating himself, but eventually JT did convince her that really yes he did want to order pizza at this hour.
When he had turned his attention back, Malcolm was almost done patching himself up. A dark bruise had started to show under his eye, and there were little red scratches all down his arm. The blood was coming from a jagged patch of what looked like road rash wrapped around his wrist.
JT stepped forward, just to help. Just so that Malcom wouldn't have to rip open the gauze with his teeth because his hands were busy applying pressure.
Malcom froze. Just his eyes popped up to watch JT, almost daring him to bring up the idea of a doctor again.
JT froze, too. "Won't need stitches, will it?"
"No." There was that pleading note in Malcom's voice. "No, just opened an old scab. Just needs wrapped again. It's barely even bleeding."
Malcom was lying. JT was a detective, so it was obvious Malcom was lying. JT also had eyes and a brain so it was obvious Malcolm was lying. Barely even bleeding.
But he backed off.
Malcom sucked in a big breath "I'm sorry I—"
JT interrupted him before he could even think about finishing whatever he was going to say. "What's your bird's name?"
The spot of color had caught his eye immediately when they came in. And if the little birdie gave him the perfect excuse to stand obviously within Malcom's line of sight and across the room, then so be it.
Malcom Blinked, looking at JT like he'd asked a riddle instead of a simple question.
"And I swear if it's named after Gracey or something…"
"Sunshine." Malcom almost smiled. "Her name is Sunshine."
Sunshine chirped and scuttled closer to peer at JT through the cage door.
Immediately JT made Malcom tell him where the treats were, and spent his time coaxing the little bird closer and closer with the promise of food. Every time Malcom opened his mouth again to try another round of stupid apologies, JT would grill him about what kind of bird Sunshine was. Could she talk like parrots? Did she like having a mirror in her cage? Her wings weren't clipped, were they? Could he teacher her how to sing God save the Queen?
It was the least he could do to give Malcom some privacy while he cut the zip tie off his wrist.
When the pizza arrived, JT stepped out to collect it. And to give Malcom enough privacy to call his siter. By the time he'd heartily tipped the driver and put the pizzas on the table, the conversation was over. JT didn't know enough about the siblings to know if a quick conversation was a good or bad sign.
"She'll be here as soon as she can get off work."
"Alright, I'll wait until she gets here."
"I—"
"Save your breath" JT grabbed a piece of pizza and the TV remote. "Just tell me what channel the gameshow network is."
They ate pizza and watched Jeopardy, Malcom mumbling the right answers between bites of pepperoni pizza. JT made him laugh a few times by flubbing answers, and forgetting to answer in a question just so that Malcom would correct him. Just to get Malcom talking about the capitol of Venezuela or the author of Anne of Green Gables or anything other than today.
"So, sign language?" JT asked during a commercial break in the Price is Right.
"Hm?" Malcom turned to look at him, not fully sitting up from where was propped against the armrest of the couch.
"Where'd you pick that up?"
"Gil, taught me, actually. When I was a kid."
"You two have known each other for a really long time." It was weird, to think about.
"Mmhmm."
JT wanted to ask more, but he didn't press for information Malcom didn't volunteer.
After a moment Malcolm did continue. "He kind of had to teach himself, then teach me from what I remember. But it came in handy the first time I met someone in school who used sign language."
JT nodded. "You know my wife knows sign language? She's a little rusty these days, but she took some courses in college. And when her aunt is in town they practice together.
JT's phone buzzed on the table.
"That's Ainsley" Malcom said before JT had even reached for it.
"You reading my texts now? Upside-down?"
Malcom gestured. "Saw the emojis. She's probably on her way."
JT checked and sure enough, Ainsley was the type to send a rainbow of sparkling heart emojis following her message. "Says she's five out."
Malcom stretched, then sat up. "You better get out of here, then. She'll try to weasel details about the case."
"Tell her the butler did it, and she can quote me on that." JT stood, then went to retrieve his coat. "I think I am going to swing back by the scene, though. See if I can't dig up your phone. And run some damage control before Gil can go Godzilla on the whole town."
Malcom snorted, dropping his head to his hands, fingers running through his hair. "Now there's a Sisyphean task."
"Sisyphean? Is he that dude with the fire?"
"Dude with the fire was Prometheus. Sisyphus kept trying to roll a boulder up a hill even though it was impossible.
"Spoilers, dude!"
"Oh, sorry. Spoiler alert on the ancient Greek myth."
"You do realize we gotta keep Dani from going ballistic too, right? If Gil doesn't physically fight his way to the bottom of his she will."
"And here I thought you were gunna start throwing punches."
"I almost did! Hey, don't look at me like that, you're the one that actually punched someone"
"You were SO mad." A giggle that was almost a laugh. "I can't believe you were about to tackle people. For me!"
"I was pissed! Why are you still laughing? I was ready to fistfight the whole force for you."
"I know. Thank you."
Malcom shouldn't be thanking him for anything. But JT just nodded and pulled on his coat. "Any time you need it."
He slipped Sunshine another treat on his way to the door, but paused before he opened it. "Really though. Are you ok?"
Malcom watched him from the couch, chin resting on his hand. "Only my ego's hurt."
"And your face.
"What's the ego if not an extension of the face?"
"This is me asking nicely for you to cut the bullshit. Are you ok?" JT turned back to face him, hand still on the door. "It's a question, y'know. It's ok if the answer is no."
"I'm…" that seemed to catch Malcom off guard. The moment of silence stretched and JT was scared he'd frightened Malcom back into silence.
But after a moment of thought Malcom found the word he wanted. "Embarrassed. I'm just….sorry."
Instead of asking what for, JT waited.
"Sorry I ruined your reputation." Malcom sat up straighter, the words tumbling over one another now. "And our first time working together. And the case. And probably our chance at being friends and—"
"Malcom you idiot," JT huffed, "We already are friends."
That had the desired effect. It knocked Malcom out of whatever line of thought he was being engulfed by.
"I know I'm not always the…nicest, to you." He wanted to make it clear he wasn't laughing at Malcom. Even if the idea of him being so smart and simultaneous so dense was pretty fucking funny. "But I do actually care about you."
Malcom thought it over for a moment. "Did you mean it?"
"Mean what?"
"You called me your partner."
"Don't let it go to your head."
And finally, finally, that got a real laugh. "Too late."
JT opened the door, waving first to Sunshine then to Malcom. "If I see you anywhere near a crime scene today I will personally drag your skinny ass back here myself!" He called on his way out.
"Thanks, JT." Quiet as a whisper, right as JT had already committed to swinging the door all the way shut.
He took a minute just outside to send another text to Gil.
And one to Tally. How soon can you teach me some sign language?
He sighed, digging in his pockets for his keys.
Instead, he came back with a lollipop. That in itself had stopped being surprising. Malcom was a regular Houdini when it came to slipping them into unexpected places. But JT spent the rest of the walk to his car puzzling over the piece of candy. How the hell did Malcom know which flavor he actually liked?