(no subject)
Title: Keep On Going
Author:loceheri
Team: ROMANCE
Prompt: Hell
Word count: 412
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Language
Notes: Fourth in a series. For simplicity, links to previous stories can be found on my journal, here: http://loceheri.livejournal.com/13083.html
It's a well known fact that staying in shape is easy. After four months of forced sleeping, getting in shape was hell. Eames was sore everywhere, all the time. Lying down was just as uncomfortable as standing up, but at least he could lie down unassisted. Eames shifted, trying to redistribute his weight so that his joints didn't ache so much. Even his hair follicles protested the movement.
"Eames, sit up a little."
It was the devil, come back to torture him some more. Arthur was a fucking slave driver, insisting on stretches and light exercises that just tired Eames out and didn't seem to accomplish much else.
Eames thought about killing him, but then remembered that he loved Arthur and he probably wouldn't succeed in his current condition anyway. He opened his eyes to see Arthur standing over him with some pills and a glass of water. "What are they?" he asked suspiciously.
"Over-the-counter painkillers and a muscle relaxer that you will take one way or another," Arthur replied firmly. Eames had refused anything that required a prescription so far but Arthur was done letting him get away with it. He needed more than ibuprofen was doing for him.
The image of Arthur plugging his nose, ready to force the pills down his throat, made Eames accept and swallow the medicine.
"Now, help me get your shirt off."
This was an order. Arthur being bossy really shouldn't be as appealing as it was, Eames reflected, especially when he was trying so hard to torment him. "Arthur, I know you need me. I appreciate that, darling, I really do. However, I am simply not up to seeing to your needs just now, so you'll have to take care of it yourself. There's a good lad."
"Do you want a massage or not?" Arthur asked impatiently. "If you'd rather be uncomfortable, I'll just go take your advice."
Instantly and genuinely contrite, Eames held out a hand. "I'm sorry, Arthur. I make a poor invalid, I'm afraid."
Arthur took the offered hand and squeezed. "This is nothing. Just wait until I'm sick and you're the one taking care of me. You'll be wishing for this."
Eames smiled to himself for reasons he didn't examine too closely just yet. Arthur gently helped him of his shirt and used warm hands to soothe his aching muscles. Between the massage and his sensitivity to meds, Eames quickly quickly fell asleep, relaxed and comfortable. Hell wasn't so bad.
Author:loceheri
Team: ROMANCE
Prompt: Hell
Word count: 412
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Language
Notes: Fourth in a series. For simplicity, links to previous stories can be found on my journal, here: http://loceheri.livejournal.com/13083.html
It's a well known fact that staying in shape is easy. After four months of forced sleeping, getting in shape was hell. Eames was sore everywhere, all the time. Lying down was just as uncomfortable as standing up, but at least he could lie down unassisted. Eames shifted, trying to redistribute his weight so that his joints didn't ache so much. Even his hair follicles protested the movement.
"Eames, sit up a little."
It was the devil, come back to torture him some more. Arthur was a fucking slave driver, insisting on stretches and light exercises that just tired Eames out and didn't seem to accomplish much else.
Eames thought about killing him, but then remembered that he loved Arthur and he probably wouldn't succeed in his current condition anyway. He opened his eyes to see Arthur standing over him with some pills and a glass of water. "What are they?" he asked suspiciously.
"Over-the-counter painkillers and a muscle relaxer that you will take one way or another," Arthur replied firmly. Eames had refused anything that required a prescription so far but Arthur was done letting him get away with it. He needed more than ibuprofen was doing for him.
The image of Arthur plugging his nose, ready to force the pills down his throat, made Eames accept and swallow the medicine.
"Now, help me get your shirt off."
This was an order. Arthur being bossy really shouldn't be as appealing as it was, Eames reflected, especially when he was trying so hard to torment him. "Arthur, I know you need me. I appreciate that, darling, I really do. However, I am simply not up to seeing to your needs just now, so you'll have to take care of it yourself. There's a good lad."
"Do you want a massage or not?" Arthur asked impatiently. "If you'd rather be uncomfortable, I'll just go take your advice."
Instantly and genuinely contrite, Eames held out a hand. "I'm sorry, Arthur. I make a poor invalid, I'm afraid."
Arthur took the offered hand and squeezed. "This is nothing. Just wait until I'm sick and you're the one taking care of me. You'll be wishing for this."
Eames smiled to himself for reasons he didn't examine too closely just yet. Arthur gently helped him of his shirt and used warm hands to soothe his aching muscles. Between the massage and his sensitivity to meds, Eames quickly quickly fell asleep, relaxed and comfortable. Hell wasn't so bad.