"Up until now I had sworn to myself that I'm content with loneliness"

[perfectforgery]

Come Undone
With: lakoffselephant
Rating: very likely R or NC17

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[lakoffselephant]

Arthur had not been so lucky as to avoid the gun fire after the job had gone all pear shaped. He had run after going his own way, sure, but he had been foolishly distracted by his own spectacular failure in figuring out the mark's true ties to the mafia that it had tripped him up mentally. And literally. Arthur had been ducking down an alleyway to lose his tail on foot when he tripped over an uneven curb and in his haste to get up, he was caught and he was shot.

The shot was not instantly fatal, through his shoulder, but if left alone long enough he would have died by bleeding out. Somewhere in the commotion he had dropped and broken his cell phone, and he received no messages from Eames, or any of the other team members. And frankly, that had been the least of his worries when he had to scramble to get medical help - stumbling into the first crowded area where the tail would likely lose him in the throng of people and then he sought said help

[perfectforgery]

At first, Eames thought he was hallucinating. That would be how he would go, wouldn't it? With a bullet to his brain from voices convincing him he's dreaming. Maybe it was the tequila, though he was sobered up enough, at least compared to how he was before. The knocking continued and Eames sighed, his chest aching as he checked his totem

[lakoffselephant]

It took too long for Eames to answer the door, too long for Arthur to not think that the man probably wasn't there. Or just not interested in seeing him. Or any host of things that meant that he would be standing outside like an idiot, hitting his good fist against the wood of the door instead of the frame now. And then the door opened without a word or sound, just revealing Eames

[perfectforgery]

Eames had finally come to terms with Arthur being dead. He was sure of it, the only way he would have let himself think it, but there he was, staring him down with his arm in a sling and looking worse for wear. Every emotion Eames could ever imagine passes through him in one giant clump of hormones and neurotransmitters, but the prevailing combination just turns into rage. His face contorts to a glaring frown and he grabs Arthur by both his arms and pulls him in. He kicks the door closed with his foot and slams Arthur against the wall so hard that a framed Munch drawing falls and the glass shatters. He doesn't even glance at it, because all the matters right now is how furious and grateful he is that Arthur is there.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Arthur?"

[lakoffselephant]

Whatever it was that he was going to say to Eames, an apology, a goodbye, whatever, left his head the instant that the man grabbed both of his arms. Instead of words, he let out an extremely pained near caterwauling, surprised and not fucking ok with the way it jostled his stitched and inflamed shoulder. "Let the fuck go," he managed to gasp as he twisted to get out of his grasp. But he was pinned and against the wall and squirming, hoarsely shouting at Eames to back off.

It was dramatic, yes, but it hurt and he might have tears in his eyes from it. "I was shot, god damn it." And even though he would normally be able to escape a hold like the one Eames had on him, he wasn't at one hundred percent and it took some more pleading and squirming to get free. When he ducked away he tripped a bit over the glass, those tears falling down his face.

"The hell is wrong with me? The fuck is wrong with you?" He spat out as he wiped at his face with his good hand, his other arm throbbing and held even tighter to his body.

[perfectforgery]

He wanted to punch Arthur. He wanted to yank his arm back and breath a tooth or his jaw, or even just give him swelling that he would feel in the morning for the next week. He wanted to scream at him, to berate him for making them all wait, for making him wait, for being unprofessional. That was, until he realized what was happening.

Arthur was crying. He had seen Arthur be shot before. He had seen Arthur tear from pain, but never quite like this. It grounded him, and he stared at Arthur again, as if he would disappear the moment he turned away. He finally sighs, a hand on his hip and the other on his eyes, rubbing. There was a headache forming, but that wasn't the most powerful sensation of the moment.

"You son of bitch. I've got to be fucking hallucinating, this isn't real. Two weeks is a bloody long time last check in."

[lakoffselephant]

He was only crying because he couldn't help it - he hadn't been prepared for the tight grip or the jerking and he was reasonably sure that his stitches were bleeding as his shoulder felt suddenly hot and moist. Getting himself under as much control as he can manage while looking at Eames with watery eyes, Arthur grit his teeth as he just stood there

[perfectforgery]

Eames only half heard Arthur. He had been in the hospital. He had gotten surgery. He was alive. He had been drinking himself to numbness to prevent from feeling loss, because he finally had something to lose. As much as it was the last thing he ever wanted or would allow himself to admit, Arthur was something to lose. He thought that if he could avoid putting it all into words, it wouldn't be a problem. Arthur was just Arthur, and if something went wrong he would mourn and move on. Except he hadn't moved on. Two weeks and he sat there, drowning himself in tequila. He had been put to the test and failed with flying colors.

This could not possibly end well.

He was only half listening to Arthur, and he could feel everything he had been ignoring flowing right back as the anger ebbed away.

"Stop talking, Arthur." He doesn't take that many steps to get close to Arthur, and he takes the other man's face in his hands, kissing him with every ounce of energy he's put into missing him.

[lakoffselephant]

Arthur had no way of knowing that Eames would have reacted this way to not being contacted - it was somewhat callous of him to assume that the man would be fine, after the way their relationship had reached a sort of emotional crescendo that neither of them had anticipated. He could see it clearly, how much it had affected him, how the two weeks had been beyond miserable and it was all his fault

[perfectforgery]

To be fair, Eames had no idea that he would react this way to not being contacted. He had expected so much better of himself, and if it had been anyone other than Arthur he would have done right. He would have lit a candle, had a drink and moved on with his life. Not this. Not getting sucked into a bit that could get him killed faster than not. Only a month ago he had given Arthur a variant of a cold shoulder at confessing his emotions, and now this. This was the opposite of what was right.

And frankly, at this exact moment, he couldn't give a shit.

Eames breaks away from the kiss for only a moment, his forehead against Arthur's and his eyes closed as he tries desperately to put words on his emotions.

"God, I love you."

They're the wrong words, he'll regret them in a few hours, but they're what pushes from his lips before he pushes back against Arthur for another kiss. He can't let him go, not again.

[lakoffselephant]

The idea of having caused Eames so much trouble and grief drudges up a whole slew of mostly negative emotions in Arthur. How he should have been able to contact Eames, how he should have just thought about what the man could have been thinking. He was being reasonably hard on himself - he was running for his life, after all, and then indisposed for days on end with thoughts of recovery and erasing his steps even if the forger was always on his mind in one way or another

[perfectforgery]

Eames shakes his head, not wanting to look Arthur in the eyes. They're both idiots. This can only end badly, and he should have left before any of this would become a problem. Arthur shouldn't have been dead for two weeks. Arthur should have never said it before, and shouldn't have said it now. He's stroking the skin in front of Arthur's ears with his thumbs as he runs through every possible horrible and wonderful scenario in his head, imagining the very worst and the very best.

"Stop it, Arthur. God, all you have to do is be here. Bloody hell I was sure you were dead."