artfulforger | For Arthur - Follow up to all that texting

Arthur did try to protest, as was his nature, but it was weakly and half-hearted. He went limp again in Eames' arms as he was scooped up again, only letting out another pathetic sounding noise of pain.

His body was just so damn sore.

He makes it again as Eames sets him gently on the bed, but manages to reach for a drawer in his bedside table. Gesturing towards it because it's just too damn far away, "I got--I got pills there that will help me more. Better." Off-the-market pills he was still able to get and have around whenever he needed to rest (usually to sleep through pain while his body healed).

Eames was so gentle, moving him carefully and not thinking about what to say, what to ask. Yet he can't help himself even as he moved to get the bottle out of the nightstand.

Holding it in his hand, watching Arthur. "How bad is it? Do you need someone to look at you," he asked, arching a brow. He wouldn't say exactly why, what kind of damage might have been done, trying to be kind yet firm about it.

Reaching for the unmarked pill bottle in Eames' hand, "No, I just need one. That'll take care of it."

Water would also help, he added.

Eames opened his mouth, wanting to say a million things. Instead he turned away, moving to go to find a bottle of water, coming back and handing it to Arthur. Silent.

Arthur got one of the pills out and popped it into his mouth and sipped nearly half of the water down by the time his head was noticeably starting to sway from where it was being held up to drink the water.

The pill had always been fast-acting and with water making it get through his body even faster, Arthur was fading fast.

He tried to hand off the bottle back to Eames while he was still able, attempting to say "thank you" but it came out garbled and sluggish as his eyes were refusing to stay open.

Standing over the bed, not looking the least bit content or settled about this, not any of it. Yet he caught the bottle, screwing back on the lid and setting it onto the nightstand.

Moving to help Arthur lay back, drawing the blanket up and over him. Turning away, he turned away to turn off the lamp. "Your welcome,' he whispered in a small voice.

Arthur would remain asleep until the next morning, hardly moving except to shift slightly in his sleep, snoring softly and completely unaware of the world around him.

When he did wake up, the bottle of water was still there on his nightstand and he was grateful for it (not caring if it was now room temperature). He took slow sips after grunting to sit back up but could already tell his body was healing better than it had been earlier...

And then he remembered Eames and what he had said, what Arthur had said, and all that Eames had done. Pausing in his drinking, he listened for any indication that the forger was still there.

The sounds he would hear is someone walking through the house, the sound of whistling, the scent of coffee heated and ready.

Eames, showered but dressed in the same clothes from the day before, was easily moving through Arthur's kitchen, making himself coffee, leaning against the counter as he drank.

Arthur did smell the coffee and even tried to recognize the music being whistled as he slowly moved out of the bed.

He used the bathroom first and then shuffled into the kitchen a few minutes later, using the walls for minor support and carrying the nearly empty water bottle in his other hand. He stopped when he spotted Eames against the counter. He leaned more against the wall and watched him for a moment before saying softly, voice still slightly rough from sleep, "You stayed here the whole time?"

Glancing up at the sound of Arthur's voice, Eames looked a bit sheepish as he took a sip. His gaze never left the other man over the rim of his glass. "You might have needed something in the night. Besides, no label and it hit pretty fast. I checked your pulse a time or two."

Arthur nods, voice remaining soft, "I'm sorry if I worried you but it's meant to do that."

Adding as he walked into the kitchen more to return the bottle to the refrigerator, "That and it isn't exactly obtained by legal means." It was a drug that was off the market for a reason; it could be so powerful a sedative that too much would knock people into a coma-like state and cause brain damage or even kill them.

The point man had been taught the safe amount to take in certain situations and was told, specifically, to never take more than that.

"I'm sure it is. I'm sure it is also not to be taken after a fist fight when you might have taken a blow or two to the head," he pointed out, taking another sip of coffee.

"You should try and drink some water and eat something to soak the rest of it up." He was careful, nervous and worried and looking at Arthur's eyes and not the bruises that had bloomed spectacularly overnight.

Arthur manages a shrug as he moves to get some coffee for himself, "I have had worse."

Adding, "It's all in the dosage; it allows you to sleep through most of the pain while your body works to heal itself." Arthur couldn't help it if the pills themselves could be too effective if one is ignorant of how much to take and for what.

It was all Eames could do to hold his tongue. Whereas before he felt unneeded, not wanted despite his desires, now he just wasn't sure where he stood. Not in the least.

"Long as you know what you're doing," he said, only thing looking away from Arthur, turning to dump the coffee into the sink. "I suppose I should get out of your way since you seemed surprised I was still here. There's more coffee in the pot, and I cleaned up after myself in the shower," he said.

Voice still soft, "Just because I was surprised you stayed doesn't mean I want you to leave."

Eames considered that, watching Arthur a long moment. "Even after all this," he admitted. "I'm not sure where we stand."

Taking a sip from his coffee, "Well, staying here and figuring that out might be more conducive than you just leaving." It wasn't said meanly or even sarcastically; just Arthur pointing it out to Eames that he was the one trying to leave this time. Not Arthur.

Adding after a few more sips, "Or, you can just stay here and we just let it happen without trying to figure anything out."

He shook his head ruefully. "You say it as if I wouldn't come back," he said with a snort. "I haven't stayed away before. Why not," he challenged, arching a brow.

"Is that what you want?"

Arthur keeps sipping on his coffee, body still sore but oddly at ease around the other man now in ways he hadn't felt before.

Flatly as he shuffles into the living room, "What I want is to stop feeling like crap and watch Blade Runner. I would also like for you to join if you want to."

Eames followed. He had been doing it enough that it felt so normal to do so. "Why Blade Runner," he asked, curious. "And do you really think I want to leave?"

Giving a one shoulder shrug before setting his mug down on the coffee table and heading over to where he kept the dvds by the television, "It could be that or District 9 or Amadeus or Monty Python or Hot Fuzz. Just a movie I like watching." It was usually what he did whenever he felt like shit; he'd watch one of his favorite movies.

Adding as he looked at the titles, "You're the one who was saying you should leave when I got to the kitchen, Eames, not me. If you remember correctly."

"The Full Monty is also a choice."

It was new and different and Eames sighed when he pointed out that Eames had just tried to leave. "You've spent how many years shoving me away. I'm supposed to suddenly know it is all changed and you actually want me around," he asked, trying not to sound like a wounded puppy. "I figured I was pushing my lucky staying, and wasn't going to push harder."

He nearly smiled though. "You want naked men, we don't need a ..." He stopped though, the bruises sharp in his mind. "Hot Fuzz.'

Arthur didn't think anything of the latter comment, picking up that movie and setting it up in the player and then bringing the remote over to the couch with him.

"Things can change, Eames. Also, all those other times I made it pretty clear I didn't want you to stay." He let out a tired grunt as he curled onto the couch on his side, leaving room for Eames to sit at the other end if he wanted to while Arthur rested his head on the pillow now propped on the arm of the couch at his end.

"If I haven't told you to leave and actually invite you to watch a movie with me, yeah, that means things have changed. It means I want you around."

Edited 2011-09-06 03:54 (UTC)

Eames settled onto the other end, slightly tense and still obviously uncertain. The words seemed to sit badly with him, suddenly feeling less like friend or even possibly more and something like a pet that had behaved well. Swallowing it down, blaming all that had happened as he drew his legs up, sitting cross legged without taking up more than the single cushion.

"As you wish then."

Arthur, for as bad as he was interacting with people at times, did occasionally pick up on certain vibes from others.

This was one such occasion as he moved his head to look over at Eames, "Unless you'd rather not. You don't have to unless you'd rather be somewhere else?"

Taking in how Eames was sitting - not in his usual sprawl - was another indication something wasn't exactly sitting well with the other man (or something like that).

Edited 2011-09-06 05:28 (UTC)

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