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elegantinmind. Futility!Verse. ]
[ He'd been slightly worried that coming back to the house would ruin all the good from their holiday, would bring back the same cloying feeling of panic and despair. But it hasn't, not at all, instead Eames has a tan, that same relaxed posture he had before England, and a puppy who hasn't let them leave his sight since they've returned. He has pauses at the door to their kitchen to scritch Sherlock on top of the head, then moves to give Arthur a sleepy kiss in greeting. He smells delicious, and Eames makes a noise against the crook of his neck feeling inexcusably happy. Especially with the little weight of a jewellery box in his pocket. He's not sure why he's carting it around like a fashionable totem, because he really needs to think about his delivery. But it's there and very real.
It doesn't take him long until he's sitting at the kitchen bartop, elbows on the counter, head on his arms. ] Arthur, please take pity on me. Make the kettle magically be full of warm water?