[It's a bit of a struggle to get in the door with the half-dozen plastic shopping carriers in hand, but he manages it, sternly telling Sherlock to get inside while he simultaneously tries to offer a grateful pat to the dog's head for a pleasant welcome. He dumps the bags down on the kitchen counters, most of which contain bulky tins of dog meat amongst the human groceries and essential items.
He doesn't actually notice the difference in the flat immediately, recovering from the exertion of carting the bags around, but when he does his eyebrows reach his hairline and he stands there to stare between Eames and the thing he's sitting on.]
I'm sorry, I think I entered the wrong apartment by mistake. [He reaches down to stroke Sherlock, the small puppy whining and jumping up clumsily.] Is there something you want to tell me?
[He stands when Arthur enters, moving to help with the bags. Instead of acting straight away, he presses a soft kiss to Arthur's neck in greeting, hand at his hip for a moment.] I bought you a sofa. Do you like it?
[Unpacking while Sherlock recieves the attention he craves, Eames starts putting things away slowly, almost worried sounding just in case he did get it all wrong.]
[He wanders over to the sofa when Sherlock decides he much prefers to follow the fun dad, bends to brush a hand across one of the cushions, and he smiles as he does it, but when he turns back to face Eames, watching him putting away their shopping and generally being terribly domesticated, he shakes his head, frowning as he wonders how this all happened in such a short time, though admittedly more baffled by how this was all arranged without him discovering it beforehand.]
You're unbelievable, do you know that? [He steps up behind Eames, arms circling his middle as he rests his chin upon the other man's shoulder.] I'm impressed.
[Eames smiles against that, reaching up to put something in one of the cupboards higher up. It's short work and when he's done he leans into Arthur's space easily.] How about I make us both a cup of coffee and we see if it's as comfy as it looks?
You had me at coffee. [Grinning, Arthur presses a kiss to Eames' cheek and shifts over to flick the kettle on, leaning back against the counter with crossed arms.] Go on, then, how did you manage this without me knowing? I was barely gone an hour.
[Watching him through the corner of his eye as he ducks his face, moves to sort out mugs and the coffee.] I'm afraid I had to resort to bribery and subtefuge.
Isn't that what you usually do? [He smirks, watching as the forger makes the coffee.] Well, however you did it, thank you. I love it. It brightens the place up and it means we can attempt to live more like civilised people now.
I didn't think you would. [He grabs a spoon out of the draw and gives both mugs a stir.] But you don't have an excuse ready and waiting for you to abuse. You might have to be more creative in that department.
You mean I should just start putting you over my shoulder and dragging you there then? [Smiling innocently in his direction before he takes both mugs and moves to the sofa.
He sits before Arthur, one knee crooked, foot against the floor, the other leg straightened out against the sofa so that Arthur will have to sit in the V of his limbs against him. He gives an impish smile as he pats the cushions, but this is just another way to hold on, both mugs suspended until the man joins him.]
If you do, I'll bite you. [Rethinking this action with a frown.] On second thought, you'd probably enjoy that. Kick. I'll kick and scratch and scream bloody murder. You never know, that crazy witch might come to my rescue.
[He follows after him, rolls his eyes at the choice he's left with, but he doesn't complain, doesn't even mind, and settles into the space being careful not to make too much of a disturbance so the coffee doesn't stain it.] I really do like this, you know? The style, the fact you went to the effort - I'm just sorry I missed you moving the thing around. [He takes one of the mugs and leans sideways against Eames.] Comfortable, too.
You'd put up a good act, darling. But you can't deny you want this body.
[He laughs low, breath disordering Arthur's hair a little at the curve of his ear as he hands the other man his coffee cup. Settling, Eames starts dragging his hand through his hair, massaging his scalp with the pads of his fingers.] I'm glad you approve, love. I just wanted to do something for you.
[Sherlock meanders around the sofa for a minute before he essentially flops down on the floor at Arthur's feet with a whuff of sound.
After a moment, Eames' voice drops to something quiet, more confidential because it's only the pair of them here and he wants to be soothing.] Can we talk?
[Before the cup makes it to his lips he freezes mid-action, eyes falling closed as he exhales slowly at the touch, never able to resist the way it feels to have his hair messed with.] That feels so good. Don't stop.
You don't have to go out of your way for me, Eames, it's enough that you're here. [He opens his eyes when he hears the dog, smiles down at little Sherlock.
The smile freezes in place at the words along with the rest of his body, and he turns a little further in an attempt to read whatever it is that's written all over Eames' face.] If you break up with me, I will shoot you. Twice. [He forces a grin, but his heart is racing with fear, blood running cold - he thought something was off as soon as he got home and chose to ignore, but now he wishes he'd been more prepared. He swallows, mouth suddenly dry.] What about?
Oh hey, don't panic. [Eames continues drawing his fingers through the other man's hair, leaning forward to press a kiss to his temple, soft and fond, making sure to keep contact with Arthur, not cease in his movements.] One, I'm not going anywhere so you needn't waste your bullets, and two, I'm going to explore this little hair thing of yours later.
[His smile is a little teasing but his eyes look a little sad that Arthur would think that of him immediately. He huffs out a breath, strokes the nape of his neck before moving back to the top of his skull.] I want you to be able to trust me, darling. I want you to know that whatever it is, I love you and I care about you, and that's why I'm asking, that's why I need to know.
[Cautiously.] It's about the other night. Not that I'm complaining, mm. But you have this tendancy to expect me to hurt you, like it doesn't cross your mind that I wouldn't, and that alarms me a little. I just - I worry.
[Arthur relaxes again under the touch as soon as the promise falls from Eames' lips, but there's still an edge to the way he holds himself.] You better not or I'll hunt you down. [He tries for more humour than he can pull off, shrugging a shoulder.] It's my one weakness. Okay, one of my two weaknesses.
[He does notice the way Eames seems to slump a little, but he assumes it's what's to come rather than what he's said, never the sharpest when it comes to reading people, even Eames, which frustrates him as much as it does make him feel guilty.
He listens, nodding a little, but still not sure where this is going until Eames spells it out. Closing his eyes, he sighs, shaking his head, voice sounding more small and vulnerable than he's comfortable with.] It's not... I know you would never hurt me, not intentionally. [He sounds a little distressed now, eyes pleading and desperate to reassure Eames.] You know I trust you, right? You have to know that. If it ever seems like I don't, I do, I really do. [Not paying attention to the mug in his
( ... )
[He does nothing more than place his cup down beside Arthur's, wrap the now free arm around his waist to anchor the two of them to each other. Keeping his movements through his hair soft and reassuring, almost like a petting, Eames listens to all of this quietly, carefully trying to work from A to B where Arthur's concerned.]
If you don't want to tell me, I won't push. I don't want to hurt you by forcing you to admit or talk about something you're not ready for, all right?
[With another pause.] I just want to be here for you, Arthur. And if that means getting you to let it all out then so be it, mm? You don't have to be afraid. Whatever it is - whatever happened - I'm still going to be here.
He doesn't actually notice the difference in the flat immediately, recovering from the exertion of carting the bags around, but when he does his eyebrows reach his hairline and he stands there to stare between Eames and the thing he's sitting on.]
I'm sorry, I think I entered the wrong apartment by mistake. [He reaches down to stroke Sherlock, the small puppy whining and jumping up clumsily.] Is there something you want to tell me?
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[Unpacking while Sherlock recieves the attention he craves, Eames starts putting things away slowly, almost worried sounding just in case he did get it all wrong.]
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You're unbelievable, do you know that? [He steps up behind Eames, arms circling his middle as he rests his chin upon the other man's shoulder.] I'm impressed.
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He sits before Arthur, one knee crooked, foot against the floor, the other leg straightened out against the sofa so that Arthur will have to sit in the V of his limbs against him. He gives an impish smile as he pats the cushions, but this is just another way to hold on, both mugs suspended until the man joins him.]
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[He follows after him, rolls his eyes at the choice he's left with, but he doesn't complain, doesn't even mind, and settles into the space being careful not to make too much of a disturbance so the coffee doesn't stain it.] I really do like this, you know? The style, the fact you went to the effort - I'm just sorry I missed you moving the thing around. [He takes one of the mugs and leans sideways against Eames.] Comfortable, too.
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[He laughs low, breath disordering Arthur's hair a little at the curve of his ear as he hands the other man his coffee cup. Settling, Eames starts dragging his hand through his hair, massaging his scalp with the pads of his fingers.] I'm glad you approve, love. I just wanted to do something for you.
[Sherlock meanders around the sofa for a minute before he essentially flops down on the floor at Arthur's feet with a whuff of sound.
After a moment, Eames' voice drops to something quiet, more confidential because it's only the pair of them here and he wants to be soothing.] Can we talk?
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[Before the cup makes it to his lips he freezes mid-action, eyes falling closed as he exhales slowly at the touch, never able to resist the way it feels to have his hair messed with.] That feels so good. Don't stop.
You don't have to go out of your way for me, Eames, it's enough that you're here. [He opens his eyes when he hears the dog, smiles down at little Sherlock.
The smile freezes in place at the words along with the rest of his body, and he turns a little further in an attempt to read whatever it is that's written all over Eames' face.] If you break up with me, I will shoot you. Twice. [He forces a grin, but his heart is racing with fear, blood running cold - he thought something was off as soon as he got home and chose to ignore, but now he wishes he'd been more prepared. He swallows, mouth suddenly dry.] What about?
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[His smile is a little teasing but his eyes look a little sad that Arthur would think that of him immediately. He huffs out a breath, strokes the nape of his neck before moving back to the top of his skull.] I want you to be able to trust me, darling. I want you to know that whatever it is, I love you and I care about you, and that's why I'm asking, that's why I need to know.
[Cautiously.] It's about the other night. Not that I'm complaining, mm. But you have this tendancy to expect me to hurt you, like it doesn't cross your mind that I wouldn't, and that alarms me a little. I just - I worry.
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[He does notice the way Eames seems to slump a little, but he assumes it's what's to come rather than what he's said, never the sharpest when it comes to reading people, even Eames, which frustrates him as much as it does make him feel guilty.
He listens, nodding a little, but still not sure where this is going until Eames spells it out. Closing his eyes, he sighs, shaking his head, voice sounding more small and vulnerable than he's comfortable with.] It's not... I know you would never hurt me, not intentionally. [He sounds a little distressed now, eyes pleading and desperate to reassure Eames.] You know I trust you, right? You have to know that. If it ever seems like I don't, I do, I really do. [Not paying attention to the mug in his ( ... )
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If you don't want to tell me, I won't push. I don't want to hurt you by forcing you to admit or talk about something you're not ready for, all right?
[With another pause.] I just want to be here for you, Arthur. And if that means getting you to let it all out then so be it, mm? You don't have to be afraid. Whatever it is - whatever happened - I'm still going to be here.
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