Those Words (Chapter One)
Title: Those Words
Author: fallslowoften
Beta: The very lovely readthemedia
Rating: G, probably.
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Genre: Mildly-angsty fluffy songfic.
Disclaimer: The songs aren't mine and neither are the characters. Fiction fiction fiction not mine etc.
Summary: If you’ve never been loved, not once in your life, who can blame you if you’re a little bit lost when it comes along?
Author's Notes: It's my first fic, so go easy on me :} But I would really love feedback/constructive criticism.
***
Gunfire. Whip-quick thoughts, plans, everything in motion. Perfect aim. Shoot. Miss. Miss. Miss. Dammit!
And then -
“You mustn’t be afraid to dream a little bigger, darling.”
Arthur blinked, his hand steady on the trigger of the gun, and glanced beside him. It was Eames. Not just Eames. Eames and a bloody grenade launcher. Arthur could barely suppress his shock, but somehow he managed to regain that cold, condescending expression and simply watch as the boorish, British man beside him did better than he ever could. Fire crashed out from the body of the target and the two acquaintances fled from the window, ready to move on.
Arthur was in a cold sweat as he ran. Everything could have been normal. He could have taken out that target. Sure, he’d have lost three more bullets, but he could’ve killed the man in half the time it took Eames to pause and say those words.
Those words.
They stuck in Arthur’s mind like nothing else ever could. All his training, all his memories, all his morals, his job, his mission, his world - God dammit, even his sexuality - meant nothing to him at that moment, in comparison to those words. Everything was insignificant.
Because, the thing is,
Nobody had ever called him ‘darling’ before.
Shut up, Arthur, he implored himself, pressing his fingers to his temples as his feet thundered down the hallway. He probably calls everyone darling. He’s British, for God’s sake. That’s how he does things. Suave and charming as always - He shook his head. Why was he even using words like ‘suave’ and ‘charming’ to describe Eames? And just like that a thought popped up in his brain.
Why was Eames even using words like ‘darling’ to describe me?
Shots rang in his ears. He twisted his body and fired, fired over and over again. Just like it was supposed to. He felt like he was on fire. Maybe not just from the physical exertion.
He glanced back at Eames. They had to move fast. His eyes traced over every line of his body. I’m just checking he’s not injured, he stressed. But he had to admit that, when his eyes locked with Eames’s and the man allowed him a small, rakish smile, he felt like nothing he’d ever felt before. Eames’s smile doubled to ten watts, and as he swerved out of the path of a bullet, two words blared in Arthur’s head. Almost as if Eames was saying them himself with that incredibly infuriating grin.
Hey, sexy.
Arthur shook his head, blushing; this was getting ridiculous. He tightened his field of vision and concentrated on nothing but the gun in front of him.
Whether he liked it or not.
***
When I was younger,
I saw my daddy cry
And curse at the wind.
He broke his own heart.
And I watched
As he tried to reassemble it.
And my momma swore that
She would never let herself forget.
And that was the day that I promised
I'd never sing of love
If it does not exist.
But darling,
You are the only exception…
Author: fallslowoften
Beta: The very lovely readthemedia
Rating: G, probably.
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Genre: Mildly-angsty fluffy songfic.
Disclaimer: The songs aren't mine and neither are the characters. Fiction fiction fiction not mine etc.
Summary: If you’ve never been loved, not once in your life, who can blame you if you’re a little bit lost when it comes along?
Author's Notes: It's my first fic, so go easy on me :} But I would really love feedback/constructive criticism.
***
Gunfire. Whip-quick thoughts, plans, everything in motion. Perfect aim. Shoot. Miss. Miss. Miss. Dammit!
And then -
“You mustn’t be afraid to dream a little bigger, darling.”
Arthur blinked, his hand steady on the trigger of the gun, and glanced beside him. It was Eames. Not just Eames. Eames and a bloody grenade launcher. Arthur could barely suppress his shock, but somehow he managed to regain that cold, condescending expression and simply watch as the boorish, British man beside him did better than he ever could. Fire crashed out from the body of the target and the two acquaintances fled from the window, ready to move on.
Arthur was in a cold sweat as he ran. Everything could have been normal. He could have taken out that target. Sure, he’d have lost three more bullets, but he could’ve killed the man in half the time it took Eames to pause and say those words.
Those words.
They stuck in Arthur’s mind like nothing else ever could. All his training, all his memories, all his morals, his job, his mission, his world - God dammit, even his sexuality - meant nothing to him at that moment, in comparison to those words. Everything was insignificant.
Because, the thing is,
Nobody had ever called him ‘darling’ before.
Shut up, Arthur, he implored himself, pressing his fingers to his temples as his feet thundered down the hallway. He probably calls everyone darling. He’s British, for God’s sake. That’s how he does things. Suave and charming as always - He shook his head. Why was he even using words like ‘suave’ and ‘charming’ to describe Eames? And just like that a thought popped up in his brain.
Why was Eames even using words like ‘darling’ to describe me?
Shots rang in his ears. He twisted his body and fired, fired over and over again. Just like it was supposed to. He felt like he was on fire. Maybe not just from the physical exertion.
He glanced back at Eames. They had to move fast. His eyes traced over every line of his body. I’m just checking he’s not injured, he stressed. But he had to admit that, when his eyes locked with Eames’s and the man allowed him a small, rakish smile, he felt like nothing he’d ever felt before. Eames’s smile doubled to ten watts, and as he swerved out of the path of a bullet, two words blared in Arthur’s head. Almost as if Eames was saying them himself with that incredibly infuriating grin.
Hey, sexy.
Arthur shook his head, blushing; this was getting ridiculous. He tightened his field of vision and concentrated on nothing but the gun in front of him.
Whether he liked it or not.
***
When I was younger,
I saw my daddy cry
And curse at the wind.
He broke his own heart.
And I watched
As he tried to reassemble it.
And my momma swore that
She would never let herself forget.
And that was the day that I promised
I'd never sing of love
If it does not exist.
But darling,
You are the only exception…