Fic: Face to Face (with saving grace)
Title: Face to Face (with saving grace)
Author: khasael
Team: ANGST
Prompt devotion
Word Count: ~300
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort
Summary: After an injury, Arthur takes care of Eames.
Notes: Thanks to groolover and maja_li for the beta.
Arthur's all brusque manner and formal interaction, and there's no reason he should be good at this, should even want to be, but he is. It's in the way he helps Eames into a shirt and buttons it for him, it's in the way he adjusts his position on the sofa so he doesn't bump into any injured part, and it's especially in the way he changes the bandages on Eames' face, not flinching when he removes them and sees the damage done there.
It's that last that means the most. The assistance is appreciated-the way Arthur seems to anticipate any movement that might be awkward or painful, as if he's been studying the way Eames functions (and dear God, he has been, hasn't he?)-but there's something in the way he can look Eames in the eye and not shy away, the way his fingers are sure while still remaining gentle, that comforts Eames in a way no spoken platitudes can.
He wants to say something that will convey the depth of his gratitude, but there are no words to properly sum up what he's feeling. Every time Arthur looks at him directly, Eames wants to grab him by the hands, look at him squarely, and express everything. But all he ever manages is a whispered thank you, not cut low due to pain, but because he's nearly flattened by how this feels.
When he finally finds the words, they don't matter. He catches Arthur by the wrist, not even caring how the movement hurts his shoulder, and opens his mouth. Arthur shakes his head. "Don't." And before Eames can even ask him what it is he isn't to do, Arthur slips a hand into his and squeezes. "I know."
For a moment, Eames forgets he's even hurt.
Author: khasael
Team: ANGST
Prompt devotion
Word Count: ~300
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort
Summary: After an injury, Arthur takes care of Eames.
Notes: Thanks to groolover and maja_li for the beta.
Arthur's all brusque manner and formal interaction, and there's no reason he should be good at this, should even want to be, but he is. It's in the way he helps Eames into a shirt and buttons it for him, it's in the way he adjusts his position on the sofa so he doesn't bump into any injured part, and it's especially in the way he changes the bandages on Eames' face, not flinching when he removes them and sees the damage done there.
It's that last that means the most. The assistance is appreciated-the way Arthur seems to anticipate any movement that might be awkward or painful, as if he's been studying the way Eames functions (and dear God, he has been, hasn't he?)-but there's something in the way he can look Eames in the eye and not shy away, the way his fingers are sure while still remaining gentle, that comforts Eames in a way no spoken platitudes can.
He wants to say something that will convey the depth of his gratitude, but there are no words to properly sum up what he's feeling. Every time Arthur looks at him directly, Eames wants to grab him by the hands, look at him squarely, and express everything. But all he ever manages is a whispered thank you, not cut low due to pain, but because he's nearly flattened by how this feels.
When he finally finds the words, they don't matter. He catches Arthur by the wrist, not even caring how the movement hurts his shoulder, and opens his mouth. Arthur shakes his head. "Don't." And before Eames can even ask him what it is he isn't to do, Arthur slips a hand into his and squeezes. "I know."
For a moment, Eames forgets he's even hurt.