artfulforger | For Arthur - Follow up to all that texting

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)

"Why do you assume I don't want to be here?" He sighed, closing his eyes a minute and resting his head back against the couch, considering his words so carefully, running over them in his head.

"I get that for you everything has turned one eighty and it's changed but I'm still... I'm terrified you're going to blame it on pain, or exhaustion, or just finally losing it and it being my bloody fault and you're not going to want me here again."

It was brutal and honest and his eyes closed tight, the corners crinkling, because he was certain the answer was going to start another fight.

Arthur took the words in and was grateful he hadn't started the movie yet because the silence in the room helped the words sink in. And, in truth Arthur didn't think his words would help the situation any better.

At least not at first. So, he did what he remembered his mother doing for him; just showing simple affection through a simple action.

He moved into a sitting position and leaned to rest his forehead against the other man's shoulder. He stayed like that, with his eyes closed, ignoring the sore protest from his body, and waited for the right words to come.

And when they did, even he was surprised by them, by the gentleness in his own voice, "You saw me in a way I don't want anyone to and even after how cruel I have been to you (and I have been), you stayed. You took care of me, were gentle with me. I can't really explain it in anyway that you may want or need to hear because I don't understand it all that well myself but now... The fact that you didn't leave when I told you to... That you held me and forgave me instead... That kind of stuff stays with me. It's not a passing thing."

Edited 2011-09-06 06:22 (UTC)

Eames didn't move, not until Arthur was settled. Not until he'd spoken, explaining himself and his feelings. Only then did Eames shift, dropping his legs down and sliding his arm around Arthur.

"Get your pillow and lay it down here," he murmured. "Stretch out and get your legs up. You'll do better for your body," he said, still taking care of him as he had since the night before.

"Even when I went to Mombasa, Arthur, I was never away. I thought of you constantly, even though I couldn't handle life here in the States. Not with you on the run, with Mallorie dead. I couldn't do this but I couldn't stay away either. Not when given the least invitation to come back."

Arthur remained there for a long moment, slowly moving his face to press it gently against the other man's cheek, eyes closed. Again, simple affection displayed with a simple gesture.

It was also his way of trying to comfort the other man wordlessly while simultaneously letting himself acknowledge that this - this between them - was not something to be flung away anymore. Not after what Arthur knew now.

It was just something Arthur had had to experience first hand; it wasn't something he could have taken anyone's word on (not even Eames' -- or Ariadne's).

He remains like that for another long moment before moving slowly away, opening his eyes again, and doing exactly what Eames suggested by putting the pillow in his lap and letting his legs stretch out more fully. Hand curling around one of Eames' knees, "Will you be staying here a while, then?"

Edited 2011-09-07 05:00 (UTC)

It was almost feline in the very nature of it, that press of cheek to cheek. Not at all shocking coming from Arthur, so solitary and sharp, sleek and dangerous. Yet it was a simple gesture that Eames cherished, enjoying that simple sensation, the touch and feel of the other man's cheek to his. The rough touch of stubble, the silky skin beneath.

His hand slid along Arthur's side as he moved, letting him settle in as he ran his fingers lightly over the other man's hair. "At least for the movie. After that I may insist you try and eat," he added. "We could order in, if you wanted."

With the remote in his other hand, he nodded a little, liking the feel of Eames' hand on his hair (the touch sending faint tingles down his back), "I can try. Not sure if I'll keep it down, but I'll try."

Arthur was more willing to meet Eames half-way on things now, knowing that the forger genuinely did care about his well-being (which was, again, something he had to come to on his own in order to believe it).

He then started the movie and ended up closing his eyes soon into it, mainly listening to it while resting his eyes.

Edited 2011-09-07 06:07 (UTC)

It was easy and comfortable and how Eames had thought it should be for a long time. Settling back, just stroking Arthur's hair, the whorl and curve of his ear. Nothing rough except that light edge of the callousness of his fingertips as he light ran them over Arthur's skin.

Laughing at the movie, trying not to move too much though when he did it, so careful to keep Arthur comfortable.

The stroking of his hair was certainly something he had missed for several years. He had gone without it for so long he had forgotten how much he had liked it. It continued to send faint, pleasant tingles up and down his spine and he continued to drift in and out as the movie played.

Eames' laughter was actually soothing for him to hear. It was good to know the other man was happy -- and that Arthur had been able to make him happy (for once).

He kept his hand on Eames' knee, gently squeezing it now and again, fingers occasionally stroking over the cap of it through his trousers, sometimes when he was awake but mostly when he was asleep.

Eames waited until the end of the movie to do more than keep Arthur close and enjoy a movie he'd likely seen a dozen times. Didn't mean he enjoyed it less, nor the way Arthur trusted him, snuggled in against him to mostly sleep.

As the movie ended, his fingers moved up, brushing the other man's temple. "Meant it. You do need to try and eat."

The only "answer" Eames would get would be an indistinguishable grumble.

(The fact that Arthur wasn't entirely awake again, either, probably didn't help.)

Chuckling softly, Eames moved to try and carefully wriggle himself out from under Arthur. Reaching for the pillow to tuck it up under the pointman's head to keep him comfortable.

As thoughtful as the intention was, Arthur didn't want it. He made a kind of growl and tightened his grip on Eames' knee at the wriggling, pressing his head down more as if subconsciously knowing weighing something down would make it stay.

In theory, anyway.

Eames made a face, settling back into onto the couch. Softly he brushed his fingers on Arthur's face.

"Pet... the movie's over."

Something vaguely resembling "play it again" was grumbled out because Arthur didn't want to move -- or give up his pillow.

He opened his mouth, closing it with a small sound like a sigh and pushing stop twice and then play to restart the movie. He wasn't ready to argue, to start another fight and end things like every other time.

For Arthur - Follow up to all that texting

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)