[ The few words of encouragement work wonders, and he slowly begins to loosen up and settle into the seat. He looks down at their joint hands and smiles, loving how easy it's become for them to show their affections, especially in public, and he can see the taxi driver in the rear-view mirror eyeing them up suspicious, not quite sure if he approves or disapproves, but staring a little too obviously just the same.
For more than just a show, Arthur brings their hands up and kisses the top of Eames', thumb brushing along the top. ] All right, but if anyone jumps us before we get there and I'm not prepared, don't look at me. [ But even he lacks the conviction that it's going to happen, though there is the nagging at the back of his mind that keeps repeating how lucky they've been so far.
The night sky seems to darken further by the minute, the bright street lights shining down on them as they drive by, and leans against Eames in a companionable silence for a while until they're only a few streets away. He lifts his head and looks around, and though there's still some stiffness in his movements to what tension there is known, it's less so, expression pulling from a look of exhaustion to one with a bit more enthusiasm. ] This is only a few blocks away. Give the baby a nudge?
[ Eames' expression is one of more open curiosity than it is of anything else. He's a city boy by heart now, but New York is new and exciting and makes him want to look.
At Arthur's words, Eames smiles, lets go enough to ruffle his hand through Sherlock's fur and rouse him. ] Rise and shine, Pup. Daddy says we're almost there.
[ Arthur's lifting himself up in order to pull the wallet out from his back pocket, not having realised how uncomfortable it's grown to sit on until it's no longer there and offering relief, and he does lean forward in the seat now, squinting out of the windows as the buildings and cars pass by.
Turning the last corner, the taxi cab finally slows to a halt, and the driver announces that they're there. He feels oddly nervous suddenly, and it's got nothing to do with the idea of things going wrong. Throwing the door open, Arthur slides out and leaves Sherlock with Eames while he goes to unload the boot when it opens, putting their few suitcases and bags down onto the sidewalk. ] Guard those with your life while I pay the driver.
[ Saluting and holding on to Sherlock's lead, Eames cuts a rather glorious and imposing figure on the sidewalk, almost like he'd dare anyone to start a fight with someone in paisley print and a puppy chewing on his hold.
When Arthur comes back, Eames ends up peering at him, taking one of the suitcases in his free hand. ] You look worried, what is it?
[ Seeing Sherlock attempting to ruin yet another lead, Arthur scowls down at him and bends down to tap his nose, an almost affectionate way of telling him not to continue or there will be trouble. He throws a bag over each shoulder and picks up the suitcase along with the special metal carry case for the PASIV, holding it close to him like a child might a stuffed animal. ]
Nothing. [ He leads the way up to the front doors of the apartment building, but stops at the doors, frantically searching every pocket for the keys. ] This is our first real place together. The apartment in Belarus was never going to be long-term, and the house wasn't even supposed to be more than a quick visit. [ Momentarily giving up on the hunt for the keys, he looks up at Eames. ] This holds the potential to actually last, to be our home, and that makes it feel like it's...official.
[ Still holding on to the leash, Eames leans in, dips two fingers into Arthur's inside blazer pocket and fishes out the keys, then he tilts his head, presses his mouth softly against the other man's, calm for the sake of them both. ] If you're having a crisis, light of my life, you may have your crisis. But you don't need to, all right? If you're panicking about how fast this is moving, we can talk about it.
[ Holding the keys out to him. ] But not on the street, hey? Sherlock's going to become best friends with that hydrant if we don't get him inside. [ The puppy's sniffing at it experimentally as they speak, so Eames taps his side, change alerting him to run back over. ] Okay?
[ Making a blind swipe and grab for the keys, Arthur holds Eames' stare, eyes searching, and despite the panic bubbling up under the surface he still manages to find a smile in him, a slight quirk that softens the hard, sharp lines, something anyone else rarely ever gets to witness. ] You're sure about this, right? Us, I mean, the apartment, fuck, even the dog. Because if you let me walk into this building with you, I can't ever go back. Do you get that? Tell me you get that. Put it down to a long day, Eames, I don't care, but you need to know now that this is it, that no matter how sick and tired you get of seeing my face, I can't walk away.
[ A quick look over at their beloved Sherlock, though, and he's pulling loose the right key, sticking it into the lock where he turns it, the sound of metal shifting before the creak of hinges in need of a good oiling, and he drags their belongings inside into the entrance way. ]
[ Eames reaches out, grabs Arthur's wrist and holds up his hand where the silver band sits snug in view. ] Darling, what is this? Because I thought I made it very clear that I want you, now, next week, next year, when I'm old and senile and can't remember the name of all our pets. I want you, I want to fucking wake up in the morning to you having a shitfit because we're late, I want take-aways because we're lazy bastards, I want me and you being fucked up, but together, all right? I do.
Now. [ Exhaling. ] Are we going in, or do I have to tell Sherlock that his daddy is insane and worrying for no reason?
[ The reassurance, which he feels stupid to realise he needs in the first place, washes over him and floods out the worry and doubt. ] Arriving on time to a pre-arranged appointment is worthy of a shitfit and you know it. [ It's defensive, but not enough to hide the twitching of lips as they fight to curl up at the corners. ] Hang on, you want us to have more pets?
[ The door closes behind them as he leads the way over to the lift, jabbing the button with a slender finger. ] Technically, you know, we're not even supposed to have this terror.
Is this building anti-pets? Because I will fucking shoot everyone. [ Pressing up against his back as he waits, Sherlock's tail thumping against the floor. ] Just tell me there's a place I can nap and I will be happy.
No. But your face was priceless. [ A playful smirk easily comes to life, the more at ease Arthur returning with his brief crisis passing, and tugs Eames along when the doors slide open, patting the side of his leg for Sherlock to follow in and gaining a sloppy lick for his troubles. ] The basic furniture is all arranged, I checked and re-checked that it was taken care of, and the bed should be fit to sleep in for tonight.
[ Still. Eames ends up pressing into Arthur's side with a hum, loose in the limbs and very clearly too tired to care about the space invasion. All he really wants to do is get Sherlock some water and then collapse into the nearest horizontal surface, taking Arthur with him. ]
[ He looks proud when the insult, as if he considers it to be a compliment instead, and jabs at the right button to take them up to their floor.
Arthur feels much calmer for having Eames so close, leaning into him as if he's the only thing keeping him going. He presses a kiss to his forehead. ] Taking you anywhere is like having a small child. Christening the rooms is going to have to wait until you're recovered.
You're implying I'm ever too tired for sex. [ Humming as he rubs his cheek against the top of Arthur's head for a moment. ] Just a hint. I'm not. Ever.
The day will come when your body betrays you. [ The lift bings and the doors slide open, Arthur scrambling up their things from where he's let them rest against the floor, and he guides Eames to step out, arm around him also holding the metal case of the PASIV.
The apartment numbers are easy enough to see, and the walk along the corridor doesn't take long, stopping at the right one. He takes a moment to stare at the door, the number screwed into the wood, and takes a deep breath. He leans everything against the wall in favour of finding the keys, picking out the right one and slotting it into the hole, turning it until it clicks open. ] Here we are. Home.
Wait there a moment. [ Eames lets Sherlock in first, watching the dog scamper in to sniff at everything, then he bends, takes the suitcases from outside and secures them on the other side of the door. Once taken care of, because clearly, Arthur would kill him for leaving the PASIV unattended, Eames turns back to Arthur.
It's a tricky distraction method, cupping the other man's face with his hands and drawing him in for a kiss. But it works long enough for Eames to move, sweeping his feet out from under him and into his arms, grin suddenly up close. Arthur's not light, but Eames has a lot of muscle going for him, and finds it easy enough to hold him close. ] Couldn't let you go in without carrying you over the threshold of our new home, could I?
For more than just a show, Arthur brings their hands up and kisses the top of Eames', thumb brushing along the top. ] All right, but if anyone jumps us before we get there and I'm not prepared, don't look at me. [ But even he lacks the conviction that it's going to happen, though there is the nagging at the back of his mind that keeps repeating how lucky they've been so far.
The night sky seems to darken further by the minute, the bright street lights shining down on them as they drive by, and leans against Eames in a companionable silence for a while until they're only a few streets away. He lifts his head and looks around, and though there's still some stiffness in his movements to what tension there is known, it's less so, expression pulling from a look of exhaustion to one with a bit more enthusiasm. ] This is only a few blocks away. Give the baby a nudge?
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At Arthur's words, Eames smiles, lets go enough to ruffle his hand through Sherlock's fur and rouse him. ] Rise and shine, Pup. Daddy says we're almost there.
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Turning the last corner, the taxi cab finally slows to a halt, and the driver announces that they're there. He feels oddly nervous suddenly, and it's got nothing to do with the idea of things going wrong. Throwing the door open, Arthur slides out and leaves Sherlock with Eames while he goes to unload the boot when it opens, putting their few suitcases and bags down onto the sidewalk. ] Guard those with your life while I pay the driver.
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When Arthur comes back, Eames ends up peering at him, taking one of the suitcases in his free hand. ] You look worried, what is it?
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Nothing. [ He leads the way up to the front doors of the apartment building, but stops at the doors, frantically searching every pocket for the keys. ] This is our first real place together. The apartment in Belarus was never going to be long-term, and the house wasn't even supposed to be more than a quick visit. [ Momentarily giving up on the hunt for the keys, he looks up at Eames. ] This holds the potential to actually last, to be our home, and that makes it feel like it's...official.
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[ Holding the keys out to him. ] But not on the street, hey? Sherlock's going to become best friends with that hydrant if we don't get him inside. [ The puppy's sniffing at it experimentally as they speak, so Eames taps his side, change alerting him to run back over. ] Okay?
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[ A quick look over at their beloved Sherlock, though, and he's pulling loose the right key, sticking it into the lock where he turns it, the sound of metal shifting before the creak of hinges in need of a good oiling, and he drags their belongings inside into the entrance way. ]
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Now. [ Exhaling. ] Are we going in, or do I have to tell Sherlock that his daddy is insane and worrying for no reason?
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[ The door closes behind them as he leads the way over to the lift, jabbing the button with a slender finger. ] Technically, you know, we're not even supposed to have this terror.
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[ Still. Eames ends up pressing into Arthur's side with a hum, loose in the limbs and very clearly too tired to care about the space invasion. All he really wants to do is get Sherlock some water and then collapse into the nearest horizontal surface, taking Arthur with him. ]
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Arthur feels much calmer for having Eames so close, leaning into him as if he's the only thing keeping him going. He presses a kiss to his forehead. ] Taking you anywhere is like having a small child. Christening the rooms is going to have to wait until you're recovered.
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The apartment numbers are easy enough to see, and the walk along the corridor doesn't take long, stopping at the right one. He takes a moment to stare at the door, the number screwed into the wood, and takes a deep breath. He leans everything against the wall in favour of finding the keys, picking out the right one and slotting it into the hole, turning it until it clicks open. ] Here we are. Home.
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It's a tricky distraction method, cupping the other man's face with his hands and drawing him in for a kiss. But it works long enough for Eames to move, sweeping his feet out from under him and into his arms, grin suddenly up close. Arthur's not light, but Eames has a lot of muscle going for him, and finds it easy enough to hold him close. ] Couldn't let you go in without carrying you over the threshold of our new home, could I?
Reply
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