[It's a bit of a struggle to get in the door with the half-dozen plastic shopping carriers in hand, but he manages it, sternly telling Sherlock to get inside while he simultaneously tries to offer a grateful pat to the dog's head for a pleasant welcome. He dumps the bags down on the kitchen counters, most of which contain bulky tins of dog meat amongst the human groceries and essential items.
He doesn't actually notice the difference in the flat immediately, recovering from the exertion of carting the bags around, but when he does his eyebrows reach his hairline and he stands there to stare between Eames and the thing he's sitting on.]
I'm sorry, I think I entered the wrong apartment by mistake. [He reaches down to stroke Sherlock, the small puppy whining and jumping up clumsily.] Is there something you want to tell me?
[A laugh slips out and he starts at it, but it dies quickly. He doesn't know how Eames does that, always knows the right things he needs to hear, but somehow he does and he's grateful for it. One day, he thinks, he should do something special so he knows just how much he appreciates everything he does.]
Fuck, Eames, stop looking like that. I hate it when you look sad or worried. It breaks my heart. [He sighs, drops his forehead to Eames' shoulder so he doesn't have to see it, see how much he really does care, because he doesn't think he can talk about this otherwise. To make up for it, he grips onto Eames tighter.
He wets his drying lips, takes a deep breath.] Have you ever wondered why I'm so uptight and in control all the damn time? It's the last thing I ever wanted to become, I swore to myself I'd never be like him, but I'm already halfway there. [Without realising he's doing it, he moves closer, moulding the shape of his body around Eames'.] Watching my mom die was the hardest thing I've ever had to do, but I took care of her,
( ... )
[He lets Arthur take up all the space he requires, shifts to accomodate him, presses his face into the top of Arthur's head and keeps rubbing circles against his scalp, anything to help him, to aid him through this.] Oh darling, darling don't. You're not like anyone, mm? You're not. You're a good man and someone any mother would be proud of. I know that, I know that better than anyone.
It's hard to lose someone, it hurts. You can't be blamed for whatever happened, you tried your best. You lost your mother. I understand how that could leave you hurting.
[Pressing another kiss to his forehead.] What happened to you?
[The sting of threatening tears pricks at the corner of his eyes, but somehow he manages to hold them off, to block the hole in the dam before it begins to crack and leak. He doesn't trust himself to speak for a while, focusing on Eames' soothing words even though he doesn't deserve them, but he doesn't stop to object, realising that this is as much about Eames as it is himself, about them as a whole.
He pulls his head back only to lean in again, this time to press his lips to Eames', to kiss him with such a light, gentle touch, and he musters a smile, however sad, and lowers his head, not sure now if he's protecting himself from the look of disgust that could come onto the other man's face or the empathy that can so easily be shared between them.I had to think of my sister. My aunt took us in, made sure we had everything we needed, but she had a full-time job and kids of her own. It started with alcohol, I raided my uncle's secret stash and for the first time since it happened I felt like myself again, like it wasn't real. But it
( ... )
[He's fairly certain this is what it feels like to have your heart break, to actually feel something like that. He wants to reach out, draw Arthur back into his arms and protect him. He can only see the kind of life that must have been, the lost little boy Arthur must have grown out from and it makes him fiercly angry that someone could have hurt him like that, taken something from him when they had no right to.
Eames' fingers twitch and he can't help himself, curls them round Arthur's wrist and holds on to him, leaning in until they're level with each other and he has no choice but to keep his gaze.] I would kill anyone that hurt you like that, Arthur. I would take them and I would destroy them, because you did not deserve that, you didn't.
You should have told me before. [He says it in a rush, so Arthur can't let himself think that means Eames is digusted by him, because he's not, far from it.] If I'd have known -. I hate thinking I've hurt you, that I could have. If you didn't - if having sex wasn't appealing to you, Arthur then
( ... )
[A single tears manages to escape, the warm salt water trickling slowly down his face, and he reaches up, wipes it away as a warning to the rest. But he's smiling, it's small and wavering, but this time it does reach his eyes, the glistening well of liquid pooling in his eyes from relief, maybe even joy, but not because of what happened to him.
He doesn't look away, not ashamed to let Eames see him like this, not anymore, and he searches those blue hues, shaking his head ever so slightly in disbelief.] He's not worth it. [He brings his hands up to hold Eames' face, and he does it as if he's scared to break him, like he's the most precious thing in the world, and to him he is.] Before you, Eames, no one else was allowed to touch me, not like you, not like that. That's how much I trust you, do you understand? You've never hurt me, Eames, you make me feel good. I've never felt that with anyone. But you...
[He wraps himself around Eames freely now, the tension gone from his entire body, and he absently keeps trying to get closer, the
( ... )
[Eames just pulls him close, cradles him to his body like he's trying to keep him safe, fingers moving restlessly through his hair.]
I'm real, I'm here, I'm not going anywhere, I promise you that. [He says it almost like it's a mantra, breathed out against the top of his head.] You have to let me take care of you sometimes, pet. I know it's hard, but I'll be good to you, I won't ever hurt you.
[He wriggles lower in Eames' embrace, lies his head against his warm chest, smiling as the way it rises ans falls beneath him comforts him, the thrumming of his heart beat.
He reaches for one of Eames' hands, slides his fingers between his and locks them together in a loose but perfect fit, as if they were made to fit together naturally all along.] I will. I might need time, but I will. Do you know how good it feels not to have to hide from everyone all the time? Not to function on the outside and feel dead on the inside, doing whatever it takes to get from one moment to the next.
It's only been a few weeks and I'm already starting to forget because of you. I almost don't want to go back. [He smiles up, squeezing Eames' hand.] Here everything is quiet, safe, peaceful, but back there it's hard and complicated. Being here, alone with you, it's one of the best things to ever happen.
If you go back, I go back. [He says it simply, completely and utterly sure of himself, because this isn't just them on the run anymore, they're in it together.] And at least we'd have a bigger place.
[There's the briefest flash of surprise when those words fully sink in, but despite that it isn't much of a surprise. Eames did say long before this that there was no where to go and no one waiting to claim a home.]
It's not as if I've done anything with the place, and there's plenty of room. [He closes his eyes, incredibly comfortable and more relaxed than he can ever remember being, a smile stretching across his face.] Sherlock would love the garden.
Eames? [Bringing their hands to his mouth, he kisses the soft of Eames' hand.] Is there anything you need to talk about? Not necessarily now, but one day?
Enough room to have a gym? [He sounds teasing, amused for a second as he lets Arthur think about it.] The little mite'd get into all sorts of trouble, wouldn't he?
[Arthur's question has him pausing before he shakes his head a little, rests it atop the other man's skull.] Maybe. It was never as bad as all that. You don't have to worry about me.
[Laughing softly, he doesn't really stop to think about it.] The spare room's full of books, but if it makes you happy I'll find somewhere else to put them. [Reaching down to give the curled up and sleeping Sherlock a soft stroke.] He would. I think he takes after his daddy in the finding trouble department. [Sighing dramatically.] The lawn will be ruined.
[He frowns at that, nudging their joined hands against Eames' chest.] Idiot. Of course I worry about you. If there's something you need to talk about, you should. Don't make me threaten violence.
I actually only ever need a punching bag. And I'm sure there's a gym somewhere in your area. It's sacrilage to move the books, pet.
[Sherlock makes a slight mreeering sound before huffing and continuing to dream.]
Oh dear, not the violence. [Eames' drawl is amused, happy for a moment before he sighs a little.] I don't really think about it much, darling. I'm not affected.
That's true, it is. But if this is going to be our home then we can work something out. I can leave some of the books boxed up, put them in the garage to make room.
[He makes an 'awe' sound before he can stop himself at the cute little ball of fluff.]
Don't act so surprised, you know it's the default go-to when things don't go to plan. [He sighs, places a hand over the area where Eames' heart lies beneath, pats it affectionately.] If you're sure. I know I don't express it well, but I do worry about you. I'm always here if it does.
Right now, I'm happier than I have ever been before, Arthur. I've got a place in the world and a man who loves me for me, I don't need to focus on the past, now when you're here.
[Kissing the top of his head, Eames lets his breathing even out, muscles relaxing.]
[The brightest smile falls into place and if he weren't so comfortable he would make the effort to look up.] You're right about that, you know, I do love you. Sometimes you're infuriatingly annoying, but oddly that doesn't seem to be quite as often.
[Eyes closing as he lies there, he holds his arms more firmly around Eames' body.] This couch was a great idea, by the way. I owe you for the initiative.
He doesn't actually notice the difference in the flat immediately, recovering from the exertion of carting the bags around, but when he does his eyebrows reach his hairline and he stands there to stare between Eames and the thing he's sitting on.]
I'm sorry, I think I entered the wrong apartment by mistake. [He reaches down to stroke Sherlock, the small puppy whining and jumping up clumsily.] Is there something you want to tell me?
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Fuck, Eames, stop looking like that. I hate it when you look sad or worried. It breaks my heart. [He sighs, drops his forehead to Eames' shoulder so he doesn't have to see it, see how much he really does care, because he doesn't think he can talk about this otherwise. To make up for it, he grips onto Eames tighter.
He wets his drying lips, takes a deep breath.] Have you ever wondered why I'm so uptight and in control all the damn time? It's the last thing I ever wanted to become, I swore to myself I'd never be like him, but I'm already halfway there. [Without realising he's doing it, he moves closer, moulding the shape of his body around Eames'.] Watching my mom die was the hardest thing I've ever had to do, but I took care of her, ( ... )
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It's hard to lose someone, it hurts. You can't be blamed for whatever happened, you tried your best. You lost your mother. I understand how that could leave you hurting.
[Pressing another kiss to his forehead.] What happened to you?
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He pulls his head back only to lean in again, this time to press his lips to Eames', to kiss him with such a light, gentle touch, and he musters a smile, however sad, and lowers his head, not sure now if he's protecting himself from the look of disgust that could come onto the other man's face or the empathy that can so easily be shared between them.I had to think of my sister. My aunt took us in, made sure we had everything we needed, but she had a full-time job and kids of her own. It started with alcohol, I raided my uncle's secret stash and for the first time since it happened I felt like myself again, like it wasn't real. But it ( ... )
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Eames' fingers twitch and he can't help himself, curls them round Arthur's wrist and holds on to him, leaning in until they're level with each other and he has no choice but to keep his gaze.] I would kill anyone that hurt you like that, Arthur. I would take them and I would destroy them, because you did not deserve that, you didn't.
You should have told me before. [He says it in a rush, so Arthur can't let himself think that means Eames is digusted by him, because he's not, far from it.] If I'd have known -. I hate thinking I've hurt you, that I could have. If you didn't - if having sex wasn't appealing to you, Arthur then ( ... )
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He doesn't look away, not ashamed to let Eames see him like this, not anymore, and he searches those blue hues, shaking his head ever so slightly in disbelief.] He's not worth it. [He brings his hands up to hold Eames' face, and he does it as if he's scared to break him, like he's the most precious thing in the world, and to him he is.] Before you, Eames, no one else was allowed to touch me, not like you, not like that. That's how much I trust you, do you understand? You've never hurt me, Eames, you make me feel good. I've never felt that with anyone. But you...
[He wraps himself around Eames freely now, the tension gone from his entire body, and he absently keeps trying to get closer, the ( ... )
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I'm real, I'm here, I'm not going anywhere, I promise you that. [He says it almost like it's a mantra, breathed out against the top of his head.] You have to let me take care of you sometimes, pet. I know it's hard, but I'll be good to you, I won't ever hurt you.
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He reaches for one of Eames' hands, slides his fingers between his and locks them together in a loose but perfect fit, as if they were made to fit together naturally all along.] I will. I might need time, but I will. Do you know how good it feels not to have to hide from everyone all the time? Not to function on the outside and feel dead on the inside, doing whatever it takes to get from one moment to the next.
It's only been a few weeks and I'm already starting to forget because of you. I almost don't want to go back. [He smiles up, squeezing Eames' hand.] Here everything is quiet, safe, peaceful, but back there it's hard and complicated. Being here, alone with you, it's one of the best things to ever happen.
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It's not as if I've done anything with the place, and there's plenty of room. [He closes his eyes, incredibly comfortable and more relaxed than he can ever remember being, a smile stretching across his face.] Sherlock would love the garden.
Eames? [Bringing their hands to his mouth, he kisses the soft of Eames' hand.] Is there anything you need to talk about? Not necessarily now, but one day?
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[Arthur's question has him pausing before he shakes his head a little, rests it atop the other man's skull.] Maybe. It was never as bad as all that. You don't have to worry about me.
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[He frowns at that, nudging their joined hands against Eames' chest.] Idiot. Of course I worry about you. If there's something you need to talk about, you should. Don't make me threaten violence.
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[Sherlock makes a slight mreeering sound before huffing and continuing to dream.]
Oh dear, not the violence. [Eames' drawl is amused, happy for a moment before he sighs a little.] I don't really think about it much, darling. I'm not affected.
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[He makes an 'awe' sound before he can stop himself at the cute little ball of fluff.]
Don't act so surprised, you know it's the default go-to when things don't go to plan. [He sighs, places a hand over the area where Eames' heart lies beneath, pats it affectionately.] If you're sure. I know I don't express it well, but I do worry about you. I'm always here if it does.
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[Kissing the top of his head, Eames lets his breathing even out, muscles relaxing.]
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[Eyes closing as he lies there, he holds his arms more firmly around Eames' body.] This couch was a great idea, by the way. I owe you for the initiative.
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