another post where nothing happens

[wldnst]

Okay, so I'm swiping this from bauble because it looked fun and I make poor decisions. Go ahead and request any fandom I've ever written, which means Inception, Teen Wolf, Harry Potter, XMen: First Class, Suits, TSN, Avengers (I wrote a snippet...once...it was Clint/Darcy), and Veronica Mars (no, my VM fic is not locatable, or finished, but) are all on

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[wldnst]

I feel like I've used bedsharing in my fic before, though I can't remember where. Love it, anyway. So LET'S DO THIS.

"Oh," Arthur says when he opens the door. "Fuck you."

"This was the only room they had left," Eames says as he drops his bag on the floor.

"And it's a smoking room, too," Arthur says, sniffing. "I'm trying to quit."

"I know," Eames says dryly. "If I have to hear anymore about how you're trying to quit--I do not want to hear anymore about how you're trying to quit."

"I'm so sorry for you," Arthur says, fishing a pack out of his pocket and sitting down on the bed (the only bed, the only, lonely, double bed) to light up. "This must be hard."

"No one who's trying to quit carries around a pack of fags and a lighter," Eames says.

"It's more like I'm thinking about trying to quit," Arthur says, taking a long drag. Eames picks the remote up off the bedside table and starts flipping through channels listlessly.

"You think the job went well?" Arthur asks.

"At least it's done," Eames says. "And we can leave in the morning."

Arthur nods and stares at the flickering images on the TV screen.

"I think I'm going to go to sleep," he says after a few moments and one cigarette is burned down to the butt. "I think I'm tired."

"Put that in the ashtray," Eames says mildly, and so Arthur does, grinding it down into the ashtray on the bedside table. He's tired, he thinks as he strips down to his briefs. He doesn't care if Eames is right there because he's so tired. This job's been rough.

"There's a bruise on your shoulder," Eames says from the bed.

"Good for me," Arthur replies.

"What happened?"

"Don't know. You were on the job, too," Arthur says. "Maybe I rolled off the bed. I think I did."

Eames is quiet. Arthur appreciates that.

He is so, so tired. It's probably a good thing--if he wasn't, maybe he'd be concerned about the narrow bed, but as it is he's just glad to slide into it, pulled the scratchy motel sheets up around his shoulders. Eames is still sitting on the other side of the bed, anchoring the remaining blankets, and he looks down at Arthur.

"Looks cozy," Eames says. "Shall I sing you a lullaby?"

"Shut up," Arthur says. Eames shrugs and puts the TV on mute but keeps flipping through channels. Looking up at him, Arthur can see the silvery light of the television reflected on his face. He falls asleep quickly, watching the flickering light shift across Eames' features.

He wakes up to the heavy weight of an arm across his shoulders and a leg across his legs, and he rolls over and gets a faceful of Eames, and a mouthful of Eames' sleep breath.

"Ugh," Arthur says, wiggling out from beneath the arm. Eames grip tightens and he pulls Arthur in closer, and it's kind of warm and comfortable, against Arthur's better judgment.

Arthur goes back to sleep.

He wakes up the second time to Eames breath across his ear, whispering.

"Cozy," he says, and pulls Arthur closer.

Arthur doesn't protest. He hasn't slept this well in ages.

They check out of the motel late.

[maiguancai]

Thank you, thank you, thank you!
This is incredibly good. Their dialog and their cuddling, amazing! I just can't love it more.

[bauble]

Haha, I love cantankerous Arthur. Cozy indeed :)

[mrsdstephens]

Adorable.