[ tap that meme/pumped up kicks verse ] better run better run outrun my gun

[triedinception]

( from here. )

Listening to Arthur say that, in such a soft tone, makes Eames pause, staring at him as he knocks back the rest of his drink. And then Eames speaks, quietly.

"Darling, how could anyone not be? Who wouldn't want to discover the man behind that inscrutable mask, the one that makes those sarcastic quips and threatens to shoot people

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[littlspecificty]

Arthur actually gave a small, bitter laugh, shaking his head, "Plenty of people, Eames." Counting off on his fingers, his tone taking on a colder, harder edge the more he spoke:

"People only want two things from me: what I can do for them professionally and what I can do for them sexually. None of them want me for me. And quite frankly I like it that way. I don't want them to want me for me. Makes things more complicated than they need to be. And also because there's honestly nothing there worth offering. To anyone. So just stop with all your "wanting to know" this or that. It's fucking pointless and it's fucking bullshit."

He then got up from his seat, leaving the table and Eames with it (he'd said the drinks were on him, after all, so he could deal with the tab). There was a bitterness that ran through Arthur - bitterness and anger and even hatred of the world that existed around him.

And more pointedly towards himself.

He often felt empty inside, like he was devoid of anything worth retaining or offering as a human being. And so many of these emotions were turned inward rather than expressing them properly. He paid his own price for that.

Often it was being alone, cutting himself off from others - and from himself.

When he walked out of the bar and into the rain, he kept walking at his own fast pace, not to anywhere in particular, or even to get out of the rain. He just wanted to get away.

[triedinception]

"It's not bullshit-" Eames had started, then cursed when Arthur got up and left, calling after him even as he threw down a wad of bills for the drinks (more than enough to cover it and following Arthur was more important than exact change.)

He grabbed his jacket at he followed him out into the rain. He could barely spot the other man in the downpour but Eames had tracked men in worse conditions and so caught up easily, loafers slipping on the wet street but staying upright.

He grabbed for Arthur's arm.

"What the hell is wrong with you? Why can't you accept that I actually want you for who you are, emotionally and sexually?"

[littlspecificty]

Of course Arthur didn't stop when his name was called or even look back as he left. Nor did he hesitate in walking out into the downpour. He welcomed the rain. It was freeing. He didn't feel so constricted anymore, like he was trying to be cornered or tied down into something he didn't want.

At least he kept trying to tell himself he didn't want it.

So, when Eames grabbed his arm, disrupting the freeing feeling he had just been breathing in, he wrenched his arm away, shoving the other man, nearly snarling through the rain, "Fuck off! And I'm not about to accept a lie as the truth!"

[triedinception]

"A lie? I deal in lies, Arthur! And I can tell you right now how I feel about you is not a lie!"

He's practically shouting, taking the shove and merely stepping back - and grasping at Arthur's wrists to keep them placed to his shoulders.

"Look, I'll leave you bloody alone if that's what you want so badly! But don't tell me my feelings are a lie!"

[littlspecificty]

Yelling through the rain right back at the other man, "That's just it! You deal in lies! How the hell am I suppose to believe one thing that comes out of your mouth!"

[triedinception]

"Because I'm not lying! What bloody else do you want me to do?! Do you want me to prostrate myself in front of you? Get down on my bloody knees in front of you? I will! Or I'll leave if you need me to! But don't belittle my feelings! They're real enough, and I don't need you doing that!"

Eames was a sight, practically howling, hair plastered to his head and suit soaked to his body.

[littlspecificty]

Eames hadn't let go of Arthur's wrists all through this scene and... he was a sight. Arthur had never seen Eames like this. This raw, this emotional and he didn't know what to do or think except to stare.

It did a lot to numb the anger and bitterness he was feeling into... confusion and uncertainty. And even guilt.

How many times had he felt hurt, no matter how deeply he buried it, when people had assumed he was incapable of feeling anything (the great irony being that he wanted people to think that, worked to make them think that, and when they did believe it, Arthur ended up being hurt by them doing so).

So he opened and closed his mouth before bowing his head, closing his eyes and finally, finally entertaining the thought that maybe Eames really was wanting more than what Arthur had always assumed someone like him would want. Eames was a liar by trade and an actor of sorts but... who would go this far to just convince someone else they wanted to fuck them? Unless they really did want more...

That and, as much as Arthur loathed to admit it, he wasn't right all the time. And... how much did he really know of Eames outside of work?

Head still bowed, "I... I'm sorry, Eames." Even in the downpour, the cool rain was providing a contrast to the heat he could feel in his cheeks and ears.

[triedinception]

Eames' hands were indeed still clenched tight around Arthur's wrists, his whole body shaking with emotion, anger and desperation.

At Arthur's words, he gave pause, gritting his teeth. "What are you sorry for? Me causing a scene? Me having feelings when a good forger should just be empty and shallow?"

His words were harsh because he was the one hurting, now.

[littlspecificty]

Arthur could already tell he was going to have bruises around his wrists tomorrow if Eames kept that grip up. But he didn't try to get away. At least not at the moment.

Head still bowed, not able to look at the other man, "For what I said."

And then he did look up, feeling something in him will him to, something inside him refusing to roll over in the face of Eames' [justified] anger, "But I have every right to have doubts - of everyone, including you."

Rain is still coming down but it might as well have been clear for all Arthur could care as he continued, looking right at Eames, "In our profession we have to carry fucking totems to make sure where we are is real; excuse the fuck out of me for wanting some goddamn proof of people. Especially those saying they want something a lot of people don't even believe is there - including myself."

"People see me and think I'm suppose to be empty, Eames. I'm just some asshole with the personality of a stick wrapped up in a suit. That's all I am to most people so, yeah, you come to me saying you want more, that you see more than that, I am going to question it. So if you can't deal with that, then yes, you should leave me. Right now."

And it was the challenge, the dare, and ultimatum it sounded like. Because if Eames couldn't handle Arthur questioning it now, there would be no way they'd get past this point.

[triedinception]

Grip loosening a bit, meeting Arthur's gaze and expression going sad, "You are so much more than that, Arthur. And I wish you could see that.

"I don't care if you question me. But don't question how I feel. I'm not subhuman or an animal, and I know my feelings."

He finally let go od Arthur's hands, letting the rain patter him as he held Arthur's gaze. "And I'll do anything to prove them."

[littlspecificty]

Arthur let his hands fall back to his sides, the wrists vaguely throbbing but he ignored them, holding Eames' gaze and finding himself disturbingly uncertain about what to do in the present situation. He never used to feel this way around Eames, like he didn't know how to move around him or what to say, and now, all of sudden, it was completely different.

It was like the forger, who had always worn such a cool, aloof mask, had removed it to reveal someone Arthur never would have anticipated was underneath. It was startling and... it was enough to make Arthur realize that he did have to reevaluate his stance on Eames. Again.

Breaking the eye contact, looking around them and then downward for a moment before looking back to the other. Somewhat sheepishly because he knew he was stating the obvious, "I'm really not very good with people."

"At all."

[triedinception]

In a way, that's what the forger had done. Niceness had gotten him nowhere, aloofness had gotten him even less. And Eames was tired of being alone, of the (few times that he'd tried it) emptiness of one night stands.

And certainly, he couldn't keep a civilian lover (and found them ever so boring anyway). No, Arthur was the one he fixated on; his last one night stand had been a slim, dark-haired man, and he had been wrong, so wrong, no biting wit like Arthur's.

Arthur knew what he was, what he did, did it as well. And he had hoped that taking off that mask would give him that chance. Elsewise he would have to finally give up, and he didn't know what he'd do after that.

At the sheepish tone, Eames closes his eyes and breathes out. "I've noticed," he said hoarsely, but there was a hint of a smile on his mouth. "It's oddly endearing when not turned on me, darling."

[littlspecificty]

The niceness had been suspicious and seemed fake while the aloofness only seemed to prove his point that Eames didn't care.

Arthur had had his own share of one night stands and while they did feel empty afterward (Arthur never stayed the whole night), it usually fulfilled his needs and only when he felt he couldn't just go back to his hotel room or apartment and shrug it off. Granted, it was a lonely way to live but it wasn't anything the point man wasn't used to by now.

Anything had always seemed... too much to want or expect. So, when faced with it now, Arthur didn't know how to really respond. (Except to question how sincere the intent was because Arthur refused to buy into it only to have it be some cruel joke later on.)

He snorted softly, looking away again (and surprisingly open under the rain), tone still sheepish but more flat, "If it's any consolation, I turn it on virtually everyone."

[triedinception]

"Nice to know I'm not garnering the extra acidic treatment," Eames replied tiredly, reaching a hand up to push his wet hair out of his face.

"I'm sorry about your wrists, darling."

He wasn't sure where they were going from here. They had reached some kind of an impasse but... did he ask to take Arthur out to dinner? Home? What was the protocol for having broken under the point man's skin?

[littlspecificty]

Arthur simply shrugs, because he has had worse before, still looking away.

"I'm sorry for what I said." Feeling his cheeks grow hot again, voice going softer, "I-I don't like it when people do it to me, either. I shouldn't do it to you."

[triedinception]

"We're not exactly good or perfect people," Eames points out wryly, then steps closer to Arthur, reaching out a hand gently to cup his chin.

"We are, however, completely soaked. Let me at least walk you home?"