And sure, he knows some of what Mal likes sexually. Knew some of that shit before he’d even spoken two words to the guy, so it’s easy to think he knows a lot about him. But so far everything he’s learned has been carefully curated, filtered, sterilized almost, in a way that makes him realize he doesn’t know the other man at all. It’s like he’s still getting Malcolm, this caricature that he’s sculpted to present to the outside world so he doesn’t have to get too close with anyone.

Rowan wants to know Mal.

The guy who’s friends with the Monroe twins and Jeremiah and a sweet old lady who runs the diner they’ve come to frequent.

The guy whose tattoos are equally delicate and threatening.

The guy who shares pie and cigarettes with an almost-stranger without batting an eye.

That’s the guy Rowan wants to get to know, and he has no problem admitting that, even after only two scenes alone with him.

“SO, WHAT’S the verdict?” Rowan asks, pouring the packet of oyster crackers into his tomato soup.

“Was good,” Mal replies after he finishes a bite of his sandwich. But he doesn’t bother to look up from his food, diving in for another bite immediately.

It’s a relief, but it does little to dispel the feeling of being a kid and waiting on his teacher to pass back the test grades.

“That’s good. I’m glad, I mean.”

Fuck, he’s such an idiot. He shoves the corner of his grilled cheese into his mouth after dunking it in the tomato soup. But the bite of food, delicious as it is, isn’t enough to keep him from opening his big mouth again.

“Was uh… there anything you didn’t like? Or that I could do differently?”

In reality he knows that it’s good for them to talk about this shit. Get everything out in the open so there’s less chance for miscommunication and dissatisfaction and so they can learn each other and keep getting better every time. He suspects that the twinge of embarrassment in asking will fade eventually.

For the first time since they got their food nearly five minutes ago, Mal looks up, an amused smile on his face.

“You this much of a teacher’s pet in school too?”

The embarrassment becomes a full-on deluge, Rowan’s ears and face and neck undoubtedly flushing to clash with his hair.

“Not… I mean, I just—”

“Relax, Red. Just fuckin’ with ya. Woulda been concerned if you didn’t ask that at some point.”