fic: i'll do anything for you (i did everything for you) -- part 2
Title: i'll do anything for you (i did everything for you), part 2
Author: maybelater__
Team: Angst
Prompt: Lies
Word count: 428
Rating: PG-13 (for language, violence)
Warnings: Some violence
Notes: Title + cut text is from Sufjan Steven's For the Widows in Paradise, For the Fatherless in Ypsilanti
Beta: sparrow_hubris & neathsunnyskies
part 1
“You know I hate it when you call me ‘darling’, you patronizing asshole,” Arthur said calmly, keeping the gun trained on Eames’ face.
Eames’ smile, if anything, grew brighter. “Ah, yes," Eames said, his expression mocking. “Now, be a love and put down the gun.” Eames stepped closer, until his forehead nearly touched the gun’s muzzle, as if daring Arthur to shoot him but knowing he wouldn’t. “I know you don’t want to kill me. Imagine the bloody mess it’d make. You’d ruin your lovely pea coat just because you’re a bit angry with me.”
“A bit angry with you?” Arthur said, his voice wavering, betraying the cold indifference of his expression.
Eames grinned at him smugly, as if he thought Arthur would eventually cave and take him back, completely forgiven. This pissed Arthur off more than anything and he moved the gun away; when Eames’ smile twisted into relief, he smacked the gun across Eames’ face, just hard enough to bruise.
“Fuck!” Eames collapsed onto his knees and held his face, his eyes streaming.
“Are you crying? I barely touched you,” Arthur said, cruelly.
“No, I’m not bloody crying,” Eames said, wiping at his eyes. He wasn’t crying; Arthur knew this. He had hit Eames just hard enough to make his eyes water. He couldn’t help the small sense of satisfaction he got from seeing Eames in pain, a small sort of revenge for how Eames had hurt him by walking away.
Eames looked up at Arthur, betrayal from Arthur’s rejection flickering in his eyes before they turned cold. Arthur stared into them and felt sick; he had to blink away. His enjoyment at seeing Eames wounded melted and twisted back into the simmering heartache and anger he had been masking with apathy. He hadn’t actually meant to hurt Eames like that, to break Eames’ trust in him, even if he didn’t wholly trust in Eames anymore.
Arthur looked back down at Eames, still on the ground and looking up at him, his expression unreadable now. Arthur put his gun back into the waistband of his pants and knelt in front of him.
“Fuck, Eames,” Arthur said, as he reached for Eames’ hand, the one still holding his cheek.
“Let me see. I didn’t hurt you badly, did I?” Arthur asked but knew the answer was no, could see it in Eames’ expression; they had both been through worse before. He knew he hadn’t hurt him much- physically, at least.
Arthur pulled Eames’ hand away from his face, bringing his other to stroke lightly over the bruise already blossoming on Eames’ cheek.
Author: maybelater__
Team: Angst
Prompt: Lies
Word count: 428
Rating: PG-13 (for language, violence)
Warnings: Some violence
Notes: Title + cut text is from Sufjan Steven's For the Widows in Paradise, For the Fatherless in Ypsilanti
Beta: sparrow_hubris & neathsunnyskies
part 1
“You know I hate it when you call me ‘darling’, you patronizing asshole,” Arthur said calmly, keeping the gun trained on Eames’ face.
Eames’ smile, if anything, grew brighter. “Ah, yes," Eames said, his expression mocking. “Now, be a love and put down the gun.” Eames stepped closer, until his forehead nearly touched the gun’s muzzle, as if daring Arthur to shoot him but knowing he wouldn’t. “I know you don’t want to kill me. Imagine the bloody mess it’d make. You’d ruin your lovely pea coat just because you’re a bit angry with me.”
“A bit angry with you?” Arthur said, his voice wavering, betraying the cold indifference of his expression.
Eames grinned at him smugly, as if he thought Arthur would eventually cave and take him back, completely forgiven. This pissed Arthur off more than anything and he moved the gun away; when Eames’ smile twisted into relief, he smacked the gun across Eames’ face, just hard enough to bruise.
“Fuck!” Eames collapsed onto his knees and held his face, his eyes streaming.
“Are you crying? I barely touched you,” Arthur said, cruelly.
“No, I’m not bloody crying,” Eames said, wiping at his eyes. He wasn’t crying; Arthur knew this. He had hit Eames just hard enough to make his eyes water. He couldn’t help the small sense of satisfaction he got from seeing Eames in pain, a small sort of revenge for how Eames had hurt him by walking away.
Eames looked up at Arthur, betrayal from Arthur’s rejection flickering in his eyes before they turned cold. Arthur stared into them and felt sick; he had to blink away. His enjoyment at seeing Eames wounded melted and twisted back into the simmering heartache and anger he had been masking with apathy. He hadn’t actually meant to hurt Eames like that, to break Eames’ trust in him, even if he didn’t wholly trust in Eames anymore.
Arthur looked back down at Eames, still on the ground and looking up at him, his expression unreadable now. Arthur put his gun back into the waistband of his pants and knelt in front of him.
“Fuck, Eames,” Arthur said, as he reached for Eames’ hand, the one still holding his cheek.
“Let me see. I didn’t hurt you badly, did I?” Arthur asked but knew the answer was no, could see it in Eames’ expression; they had both been through worse before. He knew he hadn’t hurt him much- physically, at least.
Arthur pulled Eames’ hand away from his face, bringing his other to stroke lightly over the bruise already blossoming on Eames’ cheek.