A/N: So this is what I do when I really should be writing a speech that's due in roughly fourteen hours. -sigh- I knew it would happen.
Okay, so I kinda half stole an idea from usedusername and half used an idea of my own, which I rambled on about to her. I'm pretty sure she won't mind... Hopefully. XD
Drabble Number Five Rating: T (For mentions of suicide and some light cursing by Reese)
Suicide Watch
To this day Malcolm still swears he was only making a sandwich, and had completely forgotten his ban of sharp and pointy objects. Of course, he would also point out that, regardless of said banning, a butter knife hardly counted. Especially when it was quite obviously covered in mayonnaise.
Seriously, he'd really been minding his own business, spreading a generous amount of the white goop on a slice of Wonder Bread, when, out out nowhere, Dewey had let loose his patented screech and yelled for Reese. Their older brother had come sprinting down the hallway, and upon skidding to a halt and seeing the utensil in Malcolm's hand had yelled, "Nooo!" and tackled him to the ground.
He literally tackled him. Over a butter knife.
In hindsight, Malcolm supposed it really was his fault. But at the time he was too annoyed to put much thought into the circumstances which had landed himself on the kitchen floor, with Reese lying on top of him and panting heavily, his wrists held above his head in Reese's firm grip.
Malcolm scowled at his brother.
"I wasn't trying to kill myself, you idiot."
Reese glared right back at him and didn't move.
"Give me the knife," he demanded.
Malcolm rolled his eyes.
"How am I supposed to do that if I can't move my hands?" he said. Reese looked like he was about to retort, but Malcolm didn't let him. "And besides, how the hell was I supposed to kill myself with something that isn't even sharp? I mean look at it! It's—"
"Shut up!" Reese yelled. "Give me the damned knife!"
Malcolm's eyes briefly widened in surprise at the—nearly—uncharacteristic outburst, but did as he was told, fist clenching from around the knife's wooden handle. It rattled to the tiled floor.
For a moment neither of them moved, Reese glaring down at him and Malcolm wishing he could melt into the floor to get away from it. He wasn't entirely sure how Reese had managed to make him switch from indignant to ashamed so quickly, but he desperately wanted to get away from it. He was also acutely aware of the position they were in, and briefly wondered if Reese realized it too.
Reese continued to glare daggers at him though—his scowl so low that it seemed like he was purposefully trying to make it sink lower. He stared Malcolm directly in the eye, and for a second Malcolm wasn't sure what it was he was seeing there. Disappointment and worry, sure, but, was that... sadness?
If his head hadn't already been pushed down against the tile, Malcolm might have jerked backwards in surprise. Instead he settled on a long, suffering, dramatic sigh, and rolled his eyes to the side to avoid Reese's death glare.
He pursed his lips, deciding how he would placate his older brother.
"Look," he said, still not looking Reese in the eye. "I'm sorry. Okay? I didn't think a butter knife would be a big deal."
Reese seemed to consider this for a moment, then let out a long and loud breath through his nose that he must have been holding, and finally, thankfully, looked away. However, he still didn't loosen his hold on Malcolm's wrists, or make any sort of indication that he planned on removing himself from on top of him.
"A knife is a knife," he said, now staring at some spot above Malcolm's head. "And I know a thing or two about knives."
"Yeah, but—" Malcolm began, but stopped himself. As much as he wanted to argue the point, he knew it was useless. "Yeah, you're right," he corrected. "I won't do it again."
Reese glanced up and to his left, probably at the knife.
"From now on, you want a sandwich, you ask," he said, and his gaze shifted back to Malcolm.
Malcolm quirked an eyebrow.
"Seriously?" he said, only slightly unbelieving.
The only answer he got was Reese's continued, constant stare.
"Okay then," Malcolm backpedaled, fearing more glaring. "I'll remember that."
"Good," was Reese's reply.
Again they lay there in silence, Reese still pressed firmly into him and staring him down, and Malcolm wondering if he was ever going to get up off the floor. Because he really, really wanted to get up; and he wondered, vaguely, if that was because the floor was dirty, or because he was starting to get extremely uncomfortable with Reese lying on top of him. Because in his mind it couldn't be both; it had to be either. And he didn't like where that thought process was taking him, because it included realizing he could just take a shower later (with one of his brothers standing guard on the other side of the curtain, of course), and that, for some inexplicable reason, his heart rate had decided to shoot up and his breathing was becoming erratic.
And then, of course, he had to go and realize how intense Reese's stare was. It wasn't so much a glare anymore, just a hard, hard stare. It almost seemed like it was penetrating him—looking directly into his soul. And... was Reese moving? Moving... downward? No, no way. It was just his imagination. It had to be. Reese's face was definitely not getting closer to his. It was just a trick of the light...
"So are you two going to make out or what?" Dewey said, having been completely forgotten, and just like that the moment was shattered. Reese let go of Malcolm's wrists and hefted himself up, snatching the knife up from the floor and tossing it in the sink.
Malcolm breathed a heavy sigh of relief and turned to look at whatever he could see of Dewey through chair and table legs.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" he said.
"I would find it mildly entertaining, yes," Dewey replied. "Although I can't really remember what Dad did with the camera..."
Malcolm rolled his eyes and sat up, rubbing at his wrists. Reese had left deep red marks all the way around them. Malcolm was slightly afraid they'd bruise, and give his mother another reason to fret and worry over him, which would of course cause her to yell some more. He'd really had enough of the worried yelling.
He looked up at Reese, who was watching Dewey, who was watching him. It was a funky sort of staring triangle, and had the situation been different Malcolm might have laughed at its stupidity. As it were, he sobered slightly, remembering why he was on the floor in the first place. He suddenly felt very much like an idiot.
Reese noticed him watching him, and offered a hand to him. Malcolm took it reluctantly, and before he knew it Reese had hoisted him up to a standing position. He quickly stepped away and eyed his unfinished sandwich. Suddenly he wasn't so hungry.
"Anyone want a ham sandwich?" he asked, trying not to sound pathetic.
Reese turned his nose to the suggestion, but Dewey shrugged and walked over.
"Would be a shame to let a good sandwich go to waste," he said.
Malcolm started to walk past him, intending on sulking under the covers of his bed and wondering why life hated him for the rest of the day, when Reese stepped in front of him. His expression was dead serious again.
"I'll be in there in a second," he said. "If I find you bleeding you're dead meat."
Malcolm didn't really have it in him to argue anymore, but he did manage to say, "I'm not going to kill myself, Reese."
Reese looked at him hard, that glare from before returning. Malcolm felt like melting under it, just to get away.
"You've said that before," Reese said, emotionless. "Look what happened."
"I mean it this time," Malcolm replied, staring somewhere at the vicinity of Reese's chest.
Reese gave him one last look before moving to the side.
"I'll be in there in a second," he repeated.
Malcolm didn't say anything, instead walking past. He went to his room, climbed into bed, and stared at the ceiling. Less than a minute later Reese walked in as well. He sat on his own bed and watched Malcolm watch the ceiling.
And that's where they stayed for the rest of the day.
A/N: This is totally to be blamed on the newest daily excerpt... thing that usedusername has on her profile. I am slightly afraid that I put an idea into her head that I shouldn't have.
Anyway, this originally started out as a funny idea in my head, but turned darker as I wrote. Which is why the first few paragraphs may make you laugh (they did me), but then veer off sharply. It probably doesn't flow well. Oh well, they're drabbles; they're not supposed to flow. XD This may beg a sequel, but don't get your heart set on one. I'm fickle about these things.
If this had turned out to be funny, I probably would have named it "No Mayonnaise for You!" XD
I would also like to reiterate that these drabbles are FREE to be stolen and expanded upon by anyone that wishes. If it inspires you, take it. Just give me credit, and a link.
Remember, reviewing isn't necessary. I only ask that you read and enjoy. :D
