[Ah. He's getting told off, he just knows it. But at least he'll have somewhere to sleep.]
on my way
[It actually only takes him about ten minutes, with how close his apartment is (was) to the Hyatt. The taxi drops him off and he trudges to the elevator. It only occurs to him then that Arthur never gave him a room number, so he's juggling his phone trying to text him with a box and a houseplant in his arms. He looks rather pathetic, in sweats and a t-shirt and some awful loafers, smelling like smoke but no signs of injury. The elevator dings and he gets off, making a noise of distress when he drops his phone in the hall.]
[ It takes Eames about ten minutes to get to the Hyatt from his apartment.
It takes Arthur those precious ten minutes to stop his heart from trying to beat out of his chest in a wave of panic. Even now, when he's sure Eames will have gotten to at least the front desk, his palms are clammy and his mouth is dry. He feels like he's just coming down from a sprint and it's exhausting.
Of course, he realizes, he forgot to tell him the room number. How stupid. Arthur hasn't made such a rookie mistake in a long time and maybe it's telling.
So he swings the door to his room open, intent on heading to the lobby to meet Eames whenever he showed. Naturally, this means he bumps into him at the elevators. For a second he just stares at the forger before registering the dropped phone and bending to pick it up. ]
Here, let me.
[ He'll reach out for the plant, which looks to be in a more precarious position. ]
This way.
[ And he knows he sounds terse just then, but in front of the elevators isn't exactly where he wants to have a conversation. Arthur leads him back to the room, balances the plant while he swipes the keycard and holds the door open. ]
[Eames coughs, unaware of the smudge of burnt gunk on the bridge of his nose, the flakes in his hair, and blinks a little at Arthur. He looks good. Better than Eames. But he did just go through an Incident.
He follows him, gearing himself up for the lecture. He really can't believe he lost the file, but the box it was in just fell apart in his hands when they let him back in finally.
Eames enters, and to be honest, that was terribly frightening and he's shaken. So he does what he always does when he's frightened: acts like everything's fine. He stops in front of the bed, looking down at his loafers.]
If you're going to say the shoes should have burned up too, I will have you know that I got these as a present. Can't throw away presents.
[ Eames steps in and Arthur follows, the hotel door shutting with a solid click behind him. He sets the plant on the nearby desk, brushes a little flake of ash off one of the leaves; it's green, healthy, and he has an overwhelming swell of affection for Eames.
It's mixed with residual panic. And after his seemingly nonchalant comment, something in him just. Snaps clean.
Arthur whirls on him, fingers curling into the front of his shirt and holding tightly. ]
You—
[ The word starts off sharp and ends strangled. He drops his gaze to the floor, loosens his grip on Eames' shirt but doesn't let go. ]
Jesus Christ, Eames.
[ So maybe his voice wavers a little, worry seeping through. ]
[Arthur turns on him, and Eames' eyes grow wide, expecting a punch by the way his fingers are curling into his shirt, but it never comes.
In his surprise, he drops the box of stuff the firemen let him have. There's not much in there, a few shirts, jeans, an antique clock, a stupid pen with googly eyes, for example.
Something he never thought, never even considered, is that Arthur might be upset. That he scared him.
He pauses, just staring wide-eyed at Arthur and not moving. And then he presses a hand to one of Arthur's.]
I'm sorry, [he breathes, still staring at him with wide eyes, probably looking like a maniac, but he leans in to kiss him briefly. Only briefly because he has to turn his head to cough some more. The coughing stops, and he just feels weary and gross.]
[ A hand comes to slide over one of his fists and leans in a little closer, body tipping towards Eames even as he keeps his balance. And then the apology comes up, quiet but sincere and snaps his gaze back to the forger's face.
Part of him hadn't wanted to look, mind running a fast pace to churn out the worst possible outcomes. But Eames is here, uninjured, with some flaky ash in his hair and a dirt smudge across his nose and Arthur thinks he's the best thing he's seen in a few weeks. He sags a little into the brief kiss, relief starting to creep into his bones.
Patiently, he waits through the coughing, brow furrowing the longer it goes on. ]
Come on, let's get you washed up.
[ His words are less severe now as he tugs Eames towards the bathroom. ]
[Arthur doesn't argue. He doesn't object. And he doesn't lecture. Eames realizes it wouldn't have even mattered, because any lecturing would have been from worry, not mean-spirited.
He sags in to the kiss, and for some goddamn reason, Eames relaxes with him, He goes with him easily to the bathroom, still staring at Arthur like he's going to disappear. He's tired, judging from the way his feet are shuffling behind Arthur. The brighter light of the bathroom makes him blink uncomfortably.]
You could join me, you know. I might be too tired to try anything.
[He says might because, well, Arthur makes him aspire to do great things sometimes.]
[ He doesn't argue, object, or lecture. Because he'd skipped straight past all of that when his stomach had felt like it'd been weighted with iron. The thing is, Arthur worries a lot, it's half the reason he's so exacting and prickly. He knows it comes across as superiority– in this career, that works better than being labeled as soft.
Eames won't hold it against him, not when he seems to be as tired as Arthur feels when they step into the bathroom. He watches him blink against the bright light for a second before he switches the water on, lets it run to warm. ]
I am joining you. It looks like you're about to fall over.
[ With that, he tests the water and then flips it over to the shower. Methodically, he starts peeling himself out of his suit, kicking his shoes off and shedding layers with practiced efficiency. ]
[Eames blinks at Arthur a few times, wondering how the man can undress so fast. That brings up a few titillating theories in his head, but he ignores those in favor of hurrying to strip himself out of his sweats and t-shirt, trying not to look like a flailing idiot and failing a little bit.
He steps in the shower carefully, leaving room for Arthur to join him and trying to casually lean against the wall without looking pathetic. His legs feel like jello, honestly. He breathes out a relieved sigh at the water hitting him, closing his eyes for a moment.]
Feels good.
[He opens them then, not above looking Arthur up and down as he steps in with him.]
[ Eames steps into the shower and Arthur slides the rest of his clothes off before joining him under the spray. Shower curtain diffusing more of the light, he looks at Eames more critically, takes in the dark circles and the lines of tension.
He's so happy to see him in one piece it hurts, chest constricting with it.
Wordlessly, he steps closer, circles his arms around Eames' middle and just. Tucks his head under the man's chin, cheek pressing uncomfortably on his collarbone. They're the same height, so it's a bit of a bend in his knees. It doesn't matter. ]
[Eames takes in a sharp breath, surprised and touched and aching with how much he just wants Arthur to stay. His arms immediately wrap around him, and he lets out the breath, nodding.]
Yeah, okay.
[He holds him close, just listening to their breathing and the pounding of the water.]
I wasn't thinking.
[He leans down to press soft kisses to his head, his forehead, his temple. 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry,' they say, gently pressed to his skin.]
[ It's not quite joking, but it's softer, fondness obvious. He can't hold it against Eames completely, because there's something about natural disasters and accidents that sets the blood pounding and logic flying out the window.
There's also the fact that Eames is kissing him lightly, a press of his lips to skin and he sighs, allows himself to shut his eyes and the water run. The moment doesn't last too long, since he wants more than anything to do this in bed, folded up under the duvet together.
Squirming, he pulls himself out of the embrace, worry starting to slough off of him now that he's had Eames physically under his hands. For good measure though, he leans in and drops a quick kiss to his mouth. Afterwards, he snags the bottle of shampoo, pours some out, and reaches out to lather it into the forger's hair. He takes care to press his fingers in, lightly scratches his nails over his scalp. ]
I'm here for a job over the next week. If it's gonna take longer for them to get your place in order, I can stick around.
[The kiss is appreciated, and he hums, happy to let Arthur worry about what needs to be cleaned on him. He practically purrs at the light scratching at his scalp, lashes fluttering.]
Mm... Really?
[He lets one of his hands hold onto Arthur's shoulder, his touch a little heavy as he tries not to melt down into the tub]
I don't know yet, but I'll check. I should call the... the fire damage restoration people or whatever you call them... tomorrow.
[Once Arthur's rubbed in the shampoo, he leans over to get it out, pushing his hair back out of his face once he's done. The black smudge is gone. In fact, his smokey appearance is pretty well gone entirely. Just Eames. Who is bending over to find the body wash and cursing softly.]
[ Arthur laughs, a soft huff of disbelief as Eames washes the shampoo out of his hair. It's a sight, all that water running down the planes of his face, sloping along his shoulders. If he weren't so tired, he'd considering following those paths with his tongue.
(Though even with the sleepiness, he's still considering it). ]
Here.
[ He hands him the small bar before turning his attention on washing up as well. It's efficient as always and when he's finished, he steps out of the shower, wraps himself immediately in one of the fluffy towels. His hair is loose, wet, and curling, something he knows makes him look about ten years younger. Normally he tries to tame it before Eames sees, but he doesn't care right now, too preoccupied with getting dry and warm. ]
[Eames washes as quickly as he can, thorough but quick. He hates the smell of smoke. He smells fresh and clean now, though, so he turns off the shower and steps out after Arthur, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his waist. He grabs another to dry off his hair and body, and pads out of the bathroom.]
I think I actually packed some boxers... aha!
[He pulls out a very ugly pair of green plaid boxers and slips into them before sitting on the bed, looking up at Arthur with content, slow blinks.]
Are you going to take me to bed?
[It's asked slowly and carefully, clearly actually curious if sex is involved here.]
[ The boxers are hideous, which is true to form. Arthur doesn't think he's ever seen the forger own a normal pair. They're always some awful pattern that's eye searing to look at for too long.
He's pulled on a plain pair of boxer-briefs and a tshirt, choosing comfort over everything else. Standing on the other side of the bed, he flips the blanket back, rearranges the pillows. His head tilts a bit to the side at Eames' question.
The desire is always there, just a little. It's something to do with how Eames fits everything physical he could want. Right now though, he doesn't want to pursue it. ]
If by bed you mean crashing into a sleep, yes. Lie down, Mr Eames, you've had a day.
[Eames' eyes can't help but stay glued to his form. He's absolutely gorgeous like this, hair curling, lean muscles showing, smelling fresh like soap. Eames grins and crawls onto the bed and under the covers, his cheeks warm (from the shower probably.)]
Arthur... [He closes his eyes for a beat once he's snuggled under the covers, lashes sweeping low.]
I couldn't... When it happened, it was just... a whirlwind. I didn't think much, but I did feel. And all I could feel was... [He opens his eyes again, throat tight as he reaches for him. He bets Arthur can guess what he felt. Terrified for his life, and terrified at the thought of never seeing Arthur again. Too ridiculously pathetic-sounding to say outloud, though, so he just reaches for him.] Come here. Please.
[ After Eames gets comfortable, he joins him and slides under the covers with a sigh. His hair is still damp, which means it's going to be an absolute horror when he wakes up. He takes solace in knowing Eames won't be that much better off.
And, as he thinks on it again, he's ridiculously glad he can just take in those small details. That Eames is still here, in one piece.
They're both on the same train of thought, it seems. With a small frown, Arthur rolls towards him on his stomach, one hand tentatively set on his chest. His chin rests on the forger's shoulder and somehow the closeness makes some of that fearful tension smooth away. ]
I know. [ Because he'd gone through a similar slew of thoughts. Not quite the same, being on the other side of it. But close. ]
[That's nice. Better. He presses his head against Arthur's, his wet hair cool against his forehead.]
Can't get rid of me that easily, [he says with a breathless, rueful laugh. He turns his head to cough again, groaning in frustration.]
If I wasn't bloody dying every five seconds with this fucking cough... I'd be having 'thank god I'm alive' sex, [he says through a yawn. Yeah, like that's happening tonight. But this is good. The closeness is... really good.]
[ He doesn't believe that for a second. The yawn sort of punctuates the point. Arthur can feel the beginnings of sleep trying to drag him down, a comfortable warmth cocooning him from all sides. It's nice, laying so close. He can feel Eames' heartbeat under his palm, the steady rise and fall of his chest as his breathing starts to even out.
His eyes drift closed and exhaustion creeps in fully. Normally, he'd try to fight it, but falling asleep so easily escapes him most days. In the morning, they might talk about this. And what it means for them. Or maybe they'll just pretend it didn't happen.
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random text time
Date: 2018-05-28 07:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-05-28 07:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-05-28 07:47 am (UTC)burn down some of my apartment
you wouldn't happen to be in paris already, would you? or have alcohol on hand?
lost that file on the mark for that upcoming job too
have I ever told you you're so smart and capable?
[As if that will make him look less like a mess if he compliments Arthur.]
1/2
Date: 2018-05-28 08:11 am (UTC)what
2/2
Date: 2018-05-28 08:14 am (UTC)[ There's a million things he wants to say, but they're better saved for in person. ]
no subject
Date: 2018-05-28 08:21 am (UTC)on my way
[It actually only takes him about ten minutes, with how close his apartment is (was) to the Hyatt. The taxi drops him off and he trudges to the elevator. It only occurs to him then that Arthur never gave him a room number, so he's juggling his phone trying to text him with a box and a houseplant in his arms. He looks rather pathetic, in sweats and a t-shirt and some awful loafers, smelling like smoke but no signs of injury. The elevator dings and he gets off, making a noise of distress when he drops his phone in the hall.]
no subject
Date: 2018-05-28 08:56 am (UTC)It takes Arthur those precious ten minutes to stop his heart from trying to beat out of his chest in a wave of panic. Even now, when he's sure Eames will have gotten to at least the front desk, his palms are clammy and his mouth is dry. He feels like he's just coming down from a sprint and it's exhausting.
Of course, he realizes, he forgot to tell him the room number. How stupid. Arthur hasn't made such a rookie mistake in a long time and maybe it's telling.
So he swings the door to his room open, intent on heading to the lobby to meet Eames whenever he showed. Naturally, this means he bumps into him at the elevators. For a second he just stares at the forger before registering the dropped phone and bending to pick it up. ]
Here, let me.
[ He'll reach out for the plant, which looks to be in a more precarious position. ]
This way.
[ And he knows he sounds terse just then, but in front of the elevators isn't exactly where he wants to have a conversation. Arthur leads him back to the room, balances the plant while he swipes the keycard and holds the door open. ]
no subject
Date: 2018-05-28 09:06 am (UTC)He follows him, gearing himself up for the lecture. He really can't believe he lost the file, but the box it was in just fell apart in his hands when they let him back in finally.
Eames enters, and to be honest, that was terribly frightening and he's shaken. So he does what he always does when he's frightened: acts like everything's fine. He stops in front of the bed, looking down at his loafers.]
If you're going to say the shoes should have burned up too, I will have you know that I got these as a present. Can't throw away presents.
no subject
Date: 2018-05-28 09:21 am (UTC)It's mixed with residual panic. And after his seemingly nonchalant comment, something in him just. Snaps clean.
Arthur whirls on him, fingers curling into the front of his shirt and holding tightly. ]
You—
[ The word starts off sharp and ends strangled. He drops his gaze to the floor, loosens his grip on Eames' shirt but doesn't let go. ]
Jesus Christ, Eames.
[ So maybe his voice wavers a little, worry seeping through. ]
no subject
Date: 2018-05-28 09:33 am (UTC)In his surprise, he drops the box of stuff the firemen let him have. There's not much in there, a few shirts, jeans, an antique clock, a stupid pen with googly eyes, for example.
Something he never thought, never even considered, is that Arthur might be upset. That he scared him.
He pauses, just staring wide-eyed at Arthur and not moving. And then he presses a hand to one of Arthur's.]
I'm sorry, [he breathes, still staring at him with wide eyes, probably looking like a maniac, but he leans in to kiss him briefly. Only briefly because he has to turn his head to cough some more. The coughing stops, and he just feels weary and gross.]
That was sexy.
no subject
Date: 2018-05-28 07:30 pm (UTC)Part of him hadn't wanted to look, mind running a fast pace to churn out the worst possible outcomes. But Eames is here, uninjured, with some flaky ash in his hair and a dirt smudge across his nose and Arthur thinks he's the best thing he's seen in a few weeks. He sags a little into the brief kiss, relief starting to creep into his bones.
Patiently, he waits through the coughing, brow furrowing the longer it goes on. ]
Come on, let's get you washed up.
[ His words are less severe now as he tugs Eames towards the bathroom. ]
no subject
Date: 2018-05-28 07:49 pm (UTC)He sags in to the kiss, and for some goddamn reason, Eames relaxes with him, He goes with him easily to the bathroom, still staring at Arthur like he's going to disappear. He's tired, judging from the way his feet are shuffling behind Arthur. The brighter light of the bathroom makes him blink uncomfortably.]
You could join me, you know. I might be too tired to try anything.
[He says might because, well, Arthur makes him aspire to do great things sometimes.]
no subject
Date: 2018-05-29 03:49 am (UTC)Eames won't hold it against him, not when he seems to be as tired as Arthur feels when they step into the bathroom. He watches him blink against the bright light for a second before he switches the water on, lets it run to warm. ]
I am joining you. It looks like you're about to fall over.
[ With that, he tests the water and then flips it over to the shower. Methodically, he starts peeling himself out of his suit, kicking his shoes off and shedding layers with practiced efficiency. ]
After you.
no subject
Date: 2018-05-29 04:00 am (UTC)He steps in the shower carefully, leaving room for Arthur to join him and trying to casually lean against the wall without looking pathetic. His legs feel like jello, honestly. He breathes out a relieved sigh at the water hitting him, closing his eyes for a moment.]
Feels good.
[He opens them then, not above looking Arthur up and down as he steps in with him.]
no subject
Date: 2018-05-29 04:35 am (UTC)He's so happy to see him in one piece it hurts, chest constricting with it.
Wordlessly, he steps closer, circles his arms around Eames' middle and just. Tucks his head under the man's chin, cheek pressing uncomfortably on his collarbone. They're the same height, so it's a bit of a bend in his knees. It doesn't matter. ]
Next time, lead off with "I'm safe", yeah?
no subject
Date: 2018-05-29 04:53 am (UTC)Yeah, okay.
[He holds him close, just listening to their breathing and the pounding of the water.]
I wasn't thinking.
[He leans down to press soft kisses to his head, his forehead, his temple. 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry,' they say, gently pressed to his skin.]
no subject
Date: 2018-05-29 05:14 am (UTC)[ It's not quite joking, but it's softer, fondness obvious. He can't hold it against Eames completely, because there's something about natural disasters and accidents that sets the blood pounding and logic flying out the window.
There's also the fact that Eames is kissing him lightly, a press of his lips to skin and he sighs, allows himself to shut his eyes and the water run. The moment doesn't last too long, since he wants more than anything to do this in bed, folded up under the duvet together.
Squirming, he pulls himself out of the embrace, worry starting to slough off of him now that he's had Eames physically under his hands. For good measure though, he leans in and drops a quick kiss to his mouth. Afterwards, he snags the bottle of shampoo, pours some out, and reaches out to lather it into the forger's hair. He takes care to press his fingers in, lightly scratches his nails over his scalp. ]
I'm here for a job over the next week. If it's gonna take longer for them to get your place in order, I can stick around.
no subject
Date: 2018-05-29 05:26 am (UTC)Mm... Really?
[He lets one of his hands hold onto Arthur's shoulder, his touch a little heavy as he tries not to melt down into the tub]
I don't know yet, but I'll check. I should call the... the fire damage restoration people or whatever you call them... tomorrow.
[Once Arthur's rubbed in the shampoo, he leans over to get it out, pushing his hair back out of his face once he's done. The black smudge is gone. In fact, his smokey appearance is pretty well gone entirely. Just Eames. Who is bending over to find the body wash and cursing softly.]
Where's the bloody... body soap?
no subject
Date: 2018-05-29 05:37 am (UTC)[ Arthur laughs, a soft huff of disbelief as Eames washes the shampoo out of his hair. It's a sight, all that water running down the planes of his face, sloping along his shoulders. If he weren't so tired, he'd considering following those paths with his tongue.
(Though even with the sleepiness, he's still considering it). ]
Here.
[ He hands him the small bar before turning his attention on washing up as well. It's efficient as always and when he's finished, he steps out of the shower, wraps himself immediately in one of the fluffy towels. His hair is loose, wet, and curling, something he knows makes him look about ten years younger. Normally he tries to tame it before Eames sees, but he doesn't care right now, too preoccupied with getting dry and warm. ]
no subject
Date: 2018-05-29 05:49 am (UTC)I think I actually packed some boxers... aha!
[He pulls out a very ugly pair of green plaid boxers and slips into them before sitting on the bed, looking up at Arthur with content, slow blinks.]
Are you going to take me to bed?
[It's asked slowly and carefully, clearly actually curious if sex is involved here.]
no subject
Date: 2018-05-29 06:21 am (UTC)He's pulled on a plain pair of boxer-briefs and a tshirt, choosing comfort over everything else. Standing on the other side of the bed, he flips the blanket back, rearranges the pillows. His head tilts a bit to the side at Eames' question.
The desire is always there, just a little. It's something to do with how Eames fits everything physical he could want. Right now though, he doesn't want to pursue it. ]
If by bed you mean crashing into a sleep, yes. Lie down, Mr Eames, you've had a day.
no subject
Date: 2018-05-29 06:34 am (UTC)Arthur... [He closes his eyes for a beat once he's snuggled under the covers, lashes sweeping low.]
I couldn't... When it happened, it was just... a whirlwind. I didn't think much, but I did feel. And all I could feel was... [He opens his eyes again, throat tight as he reaches for him. He bets Arthur can guess what he felt. Terrified for his life, and terrified at the thought of never seeing Arthur again. Too ridiculously pathetic-sounding to say outloud, though, so he just reaches for him.] Come here. Please.
no subject
Date: 2018-05-29 06:53 am (UTC)And, as he thinks on it again, he's ridiculously glad he can just take in those small details. That Eames is still here, in one piece.
They're both on the same train of thought, it seems. With a small frown, Arthur rolls towards him on his stomach, one hand tentatively set on his chest. His chin rests on the forger's shoulder and somehow the closeness makes some of that fearful tension smooth away. ]
I know. [ Because he'd gone through a similar slew of thoughts. Not quite the same, being on the other side of it. But close. ]
I'm glad you're here.
no subject
Date: 2018-05-29 07:03 am (UTC)Can't get rid of me that easily, [he says with a breathless, rueful laugh. He turns his head to cough again, groaning in frustration.]
If I wasn't bloody dying every five seconds with this fucking cough... I'd be having 'thank god I'm alive' sex, [he says through a yawn. Yeah, like that's happening tonight. But this is good. The closeness is... really good.]
no subject
Date: 2018-05-29 08:22 am (UTC)[ He doesn't believe that for a second. The yawn sort of punctuates the point. Arthur can feel the beginnings of sleep trying to drag him down, a comfortable warmth cocooning him from all sides. It's nice, laying so close. He can feel Eames' heartbeat under his palm, the steady rise and fall of his chest as his breathing starts to even out.
His eyes drift closed and exhaustion creeps in fully. Normally, he'd try to fight it, but falling asleep so easily escapes him most days. In the morning, they might talk about this. And what it means for them. Or maybe they'll just pretend it didn't happen.
Whatever the case, he'll tackle it then. ]