Inception/Mysterious Skin - Every Me and Every You (16/30)
Title: Every Me and Every You (16/30)
Author: osaki_nana_707
Fandom: Inception/Mysterious Skin fusion
Word count: 2,934
Pairing: Neil/Eames
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: language, allusions to rape,child molestation, and prostitution
Summary: Neil McCormick is fraying at the seams. Then he meets Eames, professional dreamer.
They were in Hutchinson two more days, and then they were getting ready to fly to New York and from there to Paris. Neil had been about forced to sleep in his own room since Eames was there (they didn't have a guest room so Eames had to sleep on the couch), but he managed more or less. Eames didn't make any real moves to sleep in bed next to Neil either which he didn't know if he was relieved or disappointed over.
Neil had woken up that morning feeling weirdly shitty, but he couldn't remember dreaming anything to make him feel quite so terrible. He trudged into the bathroom to brush his teeth, dreading the long flight back to NYC if he was going to feel so terrible all day.
It was then that he saw Eames saunter in, hair sticking up on end and mumbling a good morning. Neil felt like all of his blood had turned to ice.
Eames squeezed in next to Neil at the sink, wetting the toothbrush he'd brought with him and reaching for the paste. He offered Neil a lazy smile and sniffed, and Neil spit in the sink and wiped his mouth with the hand towel hanging next to it.
"I hope the flight doesn't get delayed," Eames said lightly, still half-asleep and apparently unable to notice how on edge Neil suddenly was. "The weather channel said there were more snowstorms moving this way. Hopefully we'll get out of here before they hit, yeah?" He was about to put his toothbrush into his mouth when his brain seemed to finally catch up to him. His brows furrowed, and he touched Neil's shoulder, and he said, "Is something wrong?"
Neil closed his eyes, taking deep breaths through his nose to try and quell the sudden nausea just from the touch, and his body started to quiver from the effort. Neil hadn't expected such a sour reaction to take place at all, especially when it was Eames (whom Neil liked being touched by), but they were in a bathroom, and when he was in a bathroom with someone else it was no longer just that room but the one in Brighton Beach, and he could hear the guy's voice echoing in his head, feel the way his skull slammed up against the porcelain of the tub, and he was actually crying-
When Neil came back to the present, he was on the floor, gathered a bit haphazardly in Eames's arms, and he was vomiting into the toilet. Eames smoothed Neil's hair back from his forehead, shushing him gently, and Neil felt like he'd emptied out his whole body in just a few retches. He sank back against Eames when he was pretty sure he was done, but he still didn't open his eyes. He was just so afraid that he might see something awful, that he might see Brighton Beach's bathroom again and that this thing with Eames was a fantasy he'd concocted in his concussed state.
"It's all right," Eames voice said, soothingly soft. "Do you think you can stand?"
It was only then that Neil realized he'd been babbling the entire time. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
"Yeah… yeah," he croaked, finally opening his eyes to find he was still in his own bathroom and far away from Brighton Beach. He still needed Eames's help to get to his feet, and even when he was up he leaned heavily against him. Eames rubbed his hands up and down Neil's back until his trembling finally subsided, and then he got him a swallow of water in a Dixie cup. Neil swished it around in his mouth and spit it in the sink, and then Eames pressed his hand between his shoulder blades and gently pushed him into the living room and onto the couch.
"A bit of the lurgy maybe?" Eames questioned, pressing the palm of his hand to Neil's forehead. "Well, you don't have a fever. Perhaps it was just dinner from last night. That takeout didn't quite sit well with me either." Eames's hand drifted to the side of Neil's face, and at the moment Neil wasn't strong enough to resist leaning his cheek against it. Eames's thumb rubbed small circles along the line of his cheekbone. "Scared the hell out of me in there for a second, you know?"
"I'm sorry," Neil mumbled, just like he'd been crying from the bathroom. It was so bizarre because he was never sorry for anything.
"Everything all right?" Neil heard his mom's voice rather than saw her, but he could still picture her coming into the doorway and looking concerned.
"A touch of food poisoning," Eames assured her. "Nothing to worry about."
"My poor baby," she said, and Neil didn't look at her when she approached and ran her fingers through his hair. "Let me see if I can find you some medicine to take with you."
The room fell silent then, even the television having been turned off. Neil was starting to really miss the noise of the city, polluting the quiet and keeping his thoughts at bay. He opened his eyes again (not entirely sure when he'd closed them), and saw Eames still staring back at him, expression concerned, thumb still making those circles on his cheek.
Neil wanted to cry.
There was a knock at the door, causing them both to jolt. "Oh," Ellen said as she returned, handing a small bottle of anti-nausea pills to Eames (as if Neil had to be taken care of), "that must be Eric. I couldn't get the Impala to start this morning so I asked if he'd drive you guys to the airport."
If Neil had had anything on his stomach, he was pretty sure he would've been sick again.
"I'm sorry, honey," Ellen said, looking sympathetic, and she must have read his horror as disappointment. "You haven't spent much time with him though, so I thought it was only fair." Neil could only watch helplessly as she went to answer the door.
Eric, thankfully, at least looked better than he had. He was wearing his eyeliner again and all around looked a bit more put together. There was also the fact that he'd shown up at all that led Neil to believe they might just not talk about it at all. It was really all Neil could hope for.
"Hey," Eric greeted a little awkwardly and was instantly distracted by Eames. Neil had forgotten that they hadn't quite been introduced.
"Neil's a little under the weather today, so drive carefully over the bumps in the road, all right?" Neil's mother said, and Eric nodded even though Neil seriously doubted he even knew what he'd agreed to.
"Who's this?" Eric asked.
"Ah, I'm Eames," Eames said, standing and offering a hand to shake. "Neil's told me so much about you."
"He has?" Eric said, sounding even more stunned and skeptical than before.
"Well, a little," Eames conceded. "It's nice to meet you."
"Yeah… Nice to meet you too. Sorry, I just… I guess I just thought that you'd be a little older. I mean, considering you do like, crazy impressive high-paying work and whatnot."
Neil was pretty sure the last sentence was for his mother's benefit. He ignored it and went back to his room to grab his things. He tossed some extra clothes into his suitcase and had to sit on it to get it shut, and then he froze, staring at his top dresser drawer. He hadn't ventured to pull it open and look inside even once since he'd gotten there, but now he did, sliding it slowly outwards just enough to peek inside.
There was still a little bit of weed left, his stack of porn magazines, a wad of cash he wasn't sure why he'd forgotten about. He shoved some of the money into the pocket of his coat left thrown across the bed. There, underneath the bills was the picture of himself from that summer, his eyes closed, and his tongue sticking out to touch against Coach's thumb. Under that photo was the entire baseball team, Brian's eyes looking out at him sadly, even through his smile.
Neil remembered Brian bleeding on the floor, hands cupped around his nose and mouth like he was trying to hold in shock and horror.
Neil slammed the drawer shut and got dressed in a pair of jeans, a long-sleeved gray top, and a pair of boots. He threw his coat on and grabbed his suitcase, hauling it back out into the living room. Eric was asking questions about their work, and Eames was effortlessly dancing around the truth, giving out vague answers that didn't sound vague. Eric was still staring at the man like he was some sort of math problem, and Neil couldn't help but wonder if maybe he was a little jealous.
…then again, he hadn't told Eric that he and Eames had fucked. Maybe the boy could just tell. It seemed like everyone else could fucking tell.
After some extended goodbyes to his mother, Neil tossed his suitcase into the back of Eric's car and climbed in the passenger seat, letting Eames settle in the backseat with his own bag. It took a couple of turns to get the engine going, but then they were pulling out of the driveway and onto Monroe Street, and Neil gave the house one last glance before focusing on the road ahead of him.
He never did get around to asking his mother to come to New York. He would just buy her the home in Paris after this next job, he supposed.
"So, what brings you to Kansas?" Eric asked Eames, and Neil wanted to shove him hard and tell him to stop acting like a taxi driver. He didn't though, instead staring out the window, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
"Work," Eames said. "I've got us a new job lined up, and I figured I'd come tell Neil about it here. I wouldn't have wanted to cut his visit with his mother short after all. I imagine he doesn't get to see her much all the way in New York."
"He was here for Christmas," Eric said, and Neil felt the boy look at him from the corner of his eye, as if wondering if maybe he shouldn't have said anything. When Neil didn't respond, he continued, "She saved up some money to send him a plane ticket home for Baby Jesus's birthday."
"Well, a mother can never miss her son too much," Eames said.
"Yeah," Eric replied.
The car fell into a slightly uncomfortable silence. Neil dug out a cigarette and lit the tip. He took a drag off of it and then offered it to Eames in the back.
"So," Neil said, exhaling smoke, "you're not going to say anything about the other day then." He didn't know why he brought it up. Maybe he just felt like torturing himself.
Eric worried his bottom lip between his top teeth for a moment before saying, "I figured you didn't want to talk about it… I was pretty sure you didn't want to talk to me at all."
Neil took his cigarette back from Eames and kept looking out the window. "I didn't mean to hit him…" he mumbled, low enough that Eames couldn't quite grasp what he'd said over the rumble of the engine.
"I don't know what went on, and I'm not going to ask. Either way, at least he's talking to me again, you know? Well, talking is a strong word… letting me sit in the same room as him is more like it. He still doesn't seem to have much to say. After you hit him though, he did say he hoped you'd freeze to death."
"Who would've thought he could be so bitter," Neil snorted, rolling the window down a bit to tap his ashes just outside of it. "I get that he's angry, but it's not like it's my fault."
"Who's angry?" Eames asked. "What's not your fault?"
A moment of silence.
"So, you haven't told him about the other day then," Eric said.
Neil took another drag off the cigarette, stalling for time he supposed. "It's nothing," he said to Eames. "Just… Hutchinson stuff."
Eames didn't appear quite satisfied with the vague, guarded answer, but Neil figured Eames wasn't the only one on Earth with the right to answer questions that way.
Eric turned on his music, and they spent most of the rest of the drive not talking, Eric or Eames only occasionally breaking into small talk. Neil fell asleep with his head pressed against the window.
When they got to the airport, Eric got out of the car with them. Neil had expected the boy to just leave it idling and say his goodbyes from the window, but apparently not. While Eames wandered off a bit to smoke a cigarette, Eric pulled Neil off to the side.
"I honestly don't know if you care, but… I think it was a good thing you went to Brian's, even if it didn't go well," Eric said.
"So, he's happy I punched him in the face?" Neil asked flatly.
"No," Eric huffed. "He's super pissed off, but… I think that's good. I think it's good because before he really wasn't feeling anything at all."
Neil stayed silent.
"Maybe now that he's feeling something… that means he's facing what happened, and… he can start to heal, you know? That's how I feel about it at least… I mean, when my parents died, I shut down like that too, but after I had my moment to cry and be pissed at the world I honestly started to feel better… and I'm going to keep trying to help Brian. Maybe I don't know exactly what happened, but now I'm thinking that maybe I don't need to know. It doesn't matter what happened. I'm just going to be there and make sure he's okay. That's what friends are supposed to do."
Neil stared at him for a moment, expression feeling oddly somber. He'd never really cared before if he'd measured up to the standards of friendship anyone set, but at that moment he actually felt bad about it. Here Eric was, Eric who he treated like crap all the time, still driving him to the airport and not caring if he'd hurt one of his other friends. He truly was loyal to the end, and Neil for once didn't feel like he quite deserved it.
"Good luck with your job," Eric said. "Don't forget about us here, you hear? I expect lots of cool new stuff when you get a fancy paycheck. Stay out of trouble, okay?"
"Do I ever stay out of trouble?" Neil asked, and Eric offered him a watery smile. "I'll come back. I will," Neil promised. "Take care of him. He needs you."
Eric nodded and then went stock still with shock when Neil put his arms around him and hugged him. Neil wasn't really the hugging type by any means but it just felt like the right thing to do at that moment. "I'm holding you to that promise, McCormick… and if you decide not to sink your claws into that Eames guy, give him my number. He's fucking gorgeous."
Neil held Eric for a lot longer than he expected himself to, but he was surprisingly okay with it. He felt the boy's slender-fingered hands glide up his back almost cautiously, as if he couldn't believe it was actually happening, and then he felt Eric give a gentle squeeze back before they separated. Eric's eyeliner was running a little, but he tried to play it off like it wasn't.
"See you next time, then," Eric said.
"Someday soon, maybe you can come and join us in New York," Neil said, offering a small smile. "Right now, I doubt you'd come even if I asked though."
"I go where I'm needed."
"Take care, Preston."
"You too, McCormick."
Neil patted him on the shoulder, picked up his suitcase, and headed into the airport. When he looked back through the glass doors, he saw Eames talking to the boy for a moment before coming inside as well.
"What did he say to you?" Neil asked Eames when he caught up to him, tilting his chin in the direction of Eric.
"He asked for my number," Eames said, and his mouth curved into the teasing line that caused Neil to know it was a lie.
He wasn't sure when he'd gotten to know the shape of Eames's mouth quite so well.
"Seriously, what did he say?" Neil scoffed, rolling his eyes.
"The truth is that he told me to take care of you," Eames said as they handed their bags over to the woman at the desk. "He told me… that you might just be hurting more than you let on."
Neil stared at Eames, lips parting slightly, not sure what to say. Eames had noticed this weird hurting of Neil's, but he was hyper-observant. Neil didn't know when he himself had become quite so opaque.
Eames offered a gentle smile, and they headed off to their gate to wait. As they walked, Eames said softly to him, "I promised him that I would."
Neil was surprised by the fact that the statement didn't really need to be said. He felt safe enough with Eames to know the man would take care of him.
He just didn't feel safe enough with him to tell him about his past yet.
Author: osaki_nana_707
Fandom: Inception/Mysterious Skin fusion
Word count: 2,934
Pairing: Neil/Eames
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: language, allusions to rape,child molestation, and prostitution
Summary: Neil McCormick is fraying at the seams. Then he meets Eames, professional dreamer.
They were in Hutchinson two more days, and then they were getting ready to fly to New York and from there to Paris. Neil had been about forced to sleep in his own room since Eames was there (they didn't have a guest room so Eames had to sleep on the couch), but he managed more or less. Eames didn't make any real moves to sleep in bed next to Neil either which he didn't know if he was relieved or disappointed over.
Neil had woken up that morning feeling weirdly shitty, but he couldn't remember dreaming anything to make him feel quite so terrible. He trudged into the bathroom to brush his teeth, dreading the long flight back to NYC if he was going to feel so terrible all day.
It was then that he saw Eames saunter in, hair sticking up on end and mumbling a good morning. Neil felt like all of his blood had turned to ice.
Eames squeezed in next to Neil at the sink, wetting the toothbrush he'd brought with him and reaching for the paste. He offered Neil a lazy smile and sniffed, and Neil spit in the sink and wiped his mouth with the hand towel hanging next to it.
"I hope the flight doesn't get delayed," Eames said lightly, still half-asleep and apparently unable to notice how on edge Neil suddenly was. "The weather channel said there were more snowstorms moving this way. Hopefully we'll get out of here before they hit, yeah?" He was about to put his toothbrush into his mouth when his brain seemed to finally catch up to him. His brows furrowed, and he touched Neil's shoulder, and he said, "Is something wrong?"
Neil closed his eyes, taking deep breaths through his nose to try and quell the sudden nausea just from the touch, and his body started to quiver from the effort. Neil hadn't expected such a sour reaction to take place at all, especially when it was Eames (whom Neil liked being touched by), but they were in a bathroom, and when he was in a bathroom with someone else it was no longer just that room but the one in Brighton Beach, and he could hear the guy's voice echoing in his head, feel the way his skull slammed up against the porcelain of the tub, and he was actually crying-
When Neil came back to the present, he was on the floor, gathered a bit haphazardly in Eames's arms, and he was vomiting into the toilet. Eames smoothed Neil's hair back from his forehead, shushing him gently, and Neil felt like he'd emptied out his whole body in just a few retches. He sank back against Eames when he was pretty sure he was done, but he still didn't open his eyes. He was just so afraid that he might see something awful, that he might see Brighton Beach's bathroom again and that this thing with Eames was a fantasy he'd concocted in his concussed state.
"It's all right," Eames voice said, soothingly soft. "Do you think you can stand?"
It was only then that Neil realized he'd been babbling the entire time. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
"Yeah… yeah," he croaked, finally opening his eyes to find he was still in his own bathroom and far away from Brighton Beach. He still needed Eames's help to get to his feet, and even when he was up he leaned heavily against him. Eames rubbed his hands up and down Neil's back until his trembling finally subsided, and then he got him a swallow of water in a Dixie cup. Neil swished it around in his mouth and spit it in the sink, and then Eames pressed his hand between his shoulder blades and gently pushed him into the living room and onto the couch.
"A bit of the lurgy maybe?" Eames questioned, pressing the palm of his hand to Neil's forehead. "Well, you don't have a fever. Perhaps it was just dinner from last night. That takeout didn't quite sit well with me either." Eames's hand drifted to the side of Neil's face, and at the moment Neil wasn't strong enough to resist leaning his cheek against it. Eames's thumb rubbed small circles along the line of his cheekbone. "Scared the hell out of me in there for a second, you know?"
"I'm sorry," Neil mumbled, just like he'd been crying from the bathroom. It was so bizarre because he was never sorry for anything.
"Everything all right?" Neil heard his mom's voice rather than saw her, but he could still picture her coming into the doorway and looking concerned.
"A touch of food poisoning," Eames assured her. "Nothing to worry about."
"My poor baby," she said, and Neil didn't look at her when she approached and ran her fingers through his hair. "Let me see if I can find you some medicine to take with you."
The room fell silent then, even the television having been turned off. Neil was starting to really miss the noise of the city, polluting the quiet and keeping his thoughts at bay. He opened his eyes again (not entirely sure when he'd closed them), and saw Eames still staring back at him, expression concerned, thumb still making those circles on his cheek.
Neil wanted to cry.
There was a knock at the door, causing them both to jolt. "Oh," Ellen said as she returned, handing a small bottle of anti-nausea pills to Eames (as if Neil had to be taken care of), "that must be Eric. I couldn't get the Impala to start this morning so I asked if he'd drive you guys to the airport."
If Neil had had anything on his stomach, he was pretty sure he would've been sick again.
"I'm sorry, honey," Ellen said, looking sympathetic, and she must have read his horror as disappointment. "You haven't spent much time with him though, so I thought it was only fair." Neil could only watch helplessly as she went to answer the door.
Eric, thankfully, at least looked better than he had. He was wearing his eyeliner again and all around looked a bit more put together. There was also the fact that he'd shown up at all that led Neil to believe they might just not talk about it at all. It was really all Neil could hope for.
"Hey," Eric greeted a little awkwardly and was instantly distracted by Eames. Neil had forgotten that they hadn't quite been introduced.
"Neil's a little under the weather today, so drive carefully over the bumps in the road, all right?" Neil's mother said, and Eric nodded even though Neil seriously doubted he even knew what he'd agreed to.
"Who's this?" Eric asked.
"Ah, I'm Eames," Eames said, standing and offering a hand to shake. "Neil's told me so much about you."
"He has?" Eric said, sounding even more stunned and skeptical than before.
"Well, a little," Eames conceded. "It's nice to meet you."
"Yeah… Nice to meet you too. Sorry, I just… I guess I just thought that you'd be a little older. I mean, considering you do like, crazy impressive high-paying work and whatnot."
Neil was pretty sure the last sentence was for his mother's benefit. He ignored it and went back to his room to grab his things. He tossed some extra clothes into his suitcase and had to sit on it to get it shut, and then he froze, staring at his top dresser drawer. He hadn't ventured to pull it open and look inside even once since he'd gotten there, but now he did, sliding it slowly outwards just enough to peek inside.
There was still a little bit of weed left, his stack of porn magazines, a wad of cash he wasn't sure why he'd forgotten about. He shoved some of the money into the pocket of his coat left thrown across the bed. There, underneath the bills was the picture of himself from that summer, his eyes closed, and his tongue sticking out to touch against Coach's thumb. Under that photo was the entire baseball team, Brian's eyes looking out at him sadly, even through his smile.
Neil remembered Brian bleeding on the floor, hands cupped around his nose and mouth like he was trying to hold in shock and horror.
Neil slammed the drawer shut and got dressed in a pair of jeans, a long-sleeved gray top, and a pair of boots. He threw his coat on and grabbed his suitcase, hauling it back out into the living room. Eric was asking questions about their work, and Eames was effortlessly dancing around the truth, giving out vague answers that didn't sound vague. Eric was still staring at the man like he was some sort of math problem, and Neil couldn't help but wonder if maybe he was a little jealous.
…then again, he hadn't told Eric that he and Eames had fucked. Maybe the boy could just tell. It seemed like everyone else could fucking tell.
After some extended goodbyes to his mother, Neil tossed his suitcase into the back of Eric's car and climbed in the passenger seat, letting Eames settle in the backseat with his own bag. It took a couple of turns to get the engine going, but then they were pulling out of the driveway and onto Monroe Street, and Neil gave the house one last glance before focusing on the road ahead of him.
He never did get around to asking his mother to come to New York. He would just buy her the home in Paris after this next job, he supposed.
"So, what brings you to Kansas?" Eric asked Eames, and Neil wanted to shove him hard and tell him to stop acting like a taxi driver. He didn't though, instead staring out the window, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
"Work," Eames said. "I've got us a new job lined up, and I figured I'd come tell Neil about it here. I wouldn't have wanted to cut his visit with his mother short after all. I imagine he doesn't get to see her much all the way in New York."
"He was here for Christmas," Eric said, and Neil felt the boy look at him from the corner of his eye, as if wondering if maybe he shouldn't have said anything. When Neil didn't respond, he continued, "She saved up some money to send him a plane ticket home for Baby Jesus's birthday."
"Well, a mother can never miss her son too much," Eames said.
"Yeah," Eric replied.
The car fell into a slightly uncomfortable silence. Neil dug out a cigarette and lit the tip. He took a drag off of it and then offered it to Eames in the back.
"So," Neil said, exhaling smoke, "you're not going to say anything about the other day then." He didn't know why he brought it up. Maybe he just felt like torturing himself.
Eric worried his bottom lip between his top teeth for a moment before saying, "I figured you didn't want to talk about it… I was pretty sure you didn't want to talk to me at all."
Neil took his cigarette back from Eames and kept looking out the window. "I didn't mean to hit him…" he mumbled, low enough that Eames couldn't quite grasp what he'd said over the rumble of the engine.
"I don't know what went on, and I'm not going to ask. Either way, at least he's talking to me again, you know? Well, talking is a strong word… letting me sit in the same room as him is more like it. He still doesn't seem to have much to say. After you hit him though, he did say he hoped you'd freeze to death."
"Who would've thought he could be so bitter," Neil snorted, rolling the window down a bit to tap his ashes just outside of it. "I get that he's angry, but it's not like it's my fault."
"Who's angry?" Eames asked. "What's not your fault?"
A moment of silence.
"So, you haven't told him about the other day then," Eric said.
Neil took another drag off the cigarette, stalling for time he supposed. "It's nothing," he said to Eames. "Just… Hutchinson stuff."
Eames didn't appear quite satisfied with the vague, guarded answer, but Neil figured Eames wasn't the only one on Earth with the right to answer questions that way.
Eric turned on his music, and they spent most of the rest of the drive not talking, Eric or Eames only occasionally breaking into small talk. Neil fell asleep with his head pressed against the window.
When they got to the airport, Eric got out of the car with them. Neil had expected the boy to just leave it idling and say his goodbyes from the window, but apparently not. While Eames wandered off a bit to smoke a cigarette, Eric pulled Neil off to the side.
"I honestly don't know if you care, but… I think it was a good thing you went to Brian's, even if it didn't go well," Eric said.
"So, he's happy I punched him in the face?" Neil asked flatly.
"No," Eric huffed. "He's super pissed off, but… I think that's good. I think it's good because before he really wasn't feeling anything at all."
Neil stayed silent.
"Maybe now that he's feeling something… that means he's facing what happened, and… he can start to heal, you know? That's how I feel about it at least… I mean, when my parents died, I shut down like that too, but after I had my moment to cry and be pissed at the world I honestly started to feel better… and I'm going to keep trying to help Brian. Maybe I don't know exactly what happened, but now I'm thinking that maybe I don't need to know. It doesn't matter what happened. I'm just going to be there and make sure he's okay. That's what friends are supposed to do."
Neil stared at him for a moment, expression feeling oddly somber. He'd never really cared before if he'd measured up to the standards of friendship anyone set, but at that moment he actually felt bad about it. Here Eric was, Eric who he treated like crap all the time, still driving him to the airport and not caring if he'd hurt one of his other friends. He truly was loyal to the end, and Neil for once didn't feel like he quite deserved it.
"Good luck with your job," Eric said. "Don't forget about us here, you hear? I expect lots of cool new stuff when you get a fancy paycheck. Stay out of trouble, okay?"
"Do I ever stay out of trouble?" Neil asked, and Eric offered him a watery smile. "I'll come back. I will," Neil promised. "Take care of him. He needs you."
Eric nodded and then went stock still with shock when Neil put his arms around him and hugged him. Neil wasn't really the hugging type by any means but it just felt like the right thing to do at that moment. "I'm holding you to that promise, McCormick… and if you decide not to sink your claws into that Eames guy, give him my number. He's fucking gorgeous."
Neil held Eric for a lot longer than he expected himself to, but he was surprisingly okay with it. He felt the boy's slender-fingered hands glide up his back almost cautiously, as if he couldn't believe it was actually happening, and then he felt Eric give a gentle squeeze back before they separated. Eric's eyeliner was running a little, but he tried to play it off like it wasn't.
"See you next time, then," Eric said.
"Someday soon, maybe you can come and join us in New York," Neil said, offering a small smile. "Right now, I doubt you'd come even if I asked though."
"I go where I'm needed."
"Take care, Preston."
"You too, McCormick."
Neil patted him on the shoulder, picked up his suitcase, and headed into the airport. When he looked back through the glass doors, he saw Eames talking to the boy for a moment before coming inside as well.
"What did he say to you?" Neil asked Eames when he caught up to him, tilting his chin in the direction of Eric.
"He asked for my number," Eames said, and his mouth curved into the teasing line that caused Neil to know it was a lie.
He wasn't sure when he'd gotten to know the shape of Eames's mouth quite so well.
"Seriously, what did he say?" Neil scoffed, rolling his eyes.
"The truth is that he told me to take care of you," Eames said as they handed their bags over to the woman at the desk. "He told me… that you might just be hurting more than you let on."
Neil stared at Eames, lips parting slightly, not sure what to say. Eames had noticed this weird hurting of Neil's, but he was hyper-observant. Neil didn't know when he himself had become quite so opaque.
Eames offered a gentle smile, and they headed off to their gate to wait. As they walked, Eames said softly to him, "I promised him that I would."
Neil was surprised by the fact that the statement didn't really need to be said. He felt safe enough with Eames to know the man would take care of him.
He just didn't feel safe enough with him to tell him about his past yet.