[With one swift motion he wipes away a tear from his own cheek that manages to slip passed him and he hates himself in that moment for not being stronger for Eames. But not as much as he hates Eames' dad, secretly glad that he's dead.]
I didn't know. I didn't - I didn't know. [He doesn't know what to do for the best, if he should hold on tighter or let him have some space, but he understands now why Eames feels guilty, that he's probably relieved that he doesn't have to worry about him ever touching him again even if he has put so much distance between them all these years.] But it's okay now, Eames, he can't hurt you anymore. No one will ever hurt you again, not while I'm here. And your mum, she would be here with you if she could, I know she would, she wouldn't have left you if she had a choice.
[He's muttering soft, rambled words of comfort, trying to reassure him that he's safe, and he does scoop him up into his arms then, the puppy tangled between them, and he holds on so Eames doesn't have to, so that he can fall there for a
( ... )
Would you rather I yell at you? [He forces a smile, as if this isn't breaking his heart, because now they're closer, now he can see just how little Eames thinks of himself deep down at times, he hates it, wishes there was some way he could be enough to make all the doubt and self-loathing leave.] There's a lot of things people don't deserve, Eames, but this isn't one of them. This is one of the things everyone should be able to have from the people who care about them when they need it. It's how we get through all the bad things.
[He sighs, shaking his head a little, and cuddles up closer, making sure the cover is wrapped all the way around all three of them.] Go to sleep, Eames. By the time you wake up, everything will be taken care of.
[Exhaling softly like he's already halfway in the process of drifting off, Eames makes a sleepy noise and then resettles himself. His voice is nothing but a quiet murmur.] I love you.
[They don't say it often, but when they do it counts, and a fond, tingly feeling washes over him. But it doesn't last long as he lies there and watches until Eames is fully asleep, and when he knows he won't wake up he wriggles from under the mass and sets to work finding out the details for the funeral and booking flights and hotels, back-up hotels, and sorting out papers not only for them but for the dog - he would never think to leave him behind, not now, and the extra work gives him something to keep busy with.
He watches over Eames as he does everything, though, staying close in case he wakes up, and eventually, when he's checked and re-checked every last detail, he snuggles back up and falls asleep himself.]
I didn't know. I didn't - I didn't know. [He doesn't know what to do for the best, if he should hold on tighter or let him have some space, but he understands now why Eames feels guilty, that he's probably relieved that he doesn't have to worry about him ever touching him again even if he has put so much distance between them all these years.] But it's okay now, Eames, he can't hurt you anymore. No one will ever hurt you again, not while I'm here. And your mum, she would be here with you if she could, I know she would, she wouldn't have left you if she had a choice.
[He's muttering soft, rambled words of comfort, trying to reassure him that he's safe, and he does scoop him up into his arms then, the puppy tangled between them, and he holds on so Eames doesn't have to, so that he can fall there for a ( ... )
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He watches over Eames as he does everything, though, staying close in case he wakes up, and eventually, when he's checked and re-checked every last detail, he snuggles back up and falls asleep himself.]
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