ruffians | #vampireproblems

[Oh god, bed. Some corner of Arthur's mind says that this comfortable horizontal surface is somehow dangerous, because of the encroaching blackness around the edges of his vision, but the rest of him is so thankful for this bed. He's thankful that Eames has brought him here.]

[Right, Eames. Eames is talking to him, not letting him fully drift away into sleep or death or whatever it is that's tugging at him. Arthur's brows furrow and he turns his head away with a sound of protest because he just can't deal with this right now.]

Fucking hell, Arthur.

[He sounds annoyed, but it's less at Arthur than it is a fraction of what he's feeling about the asshole that did this to him. He is also a little annoyed at Arthur because it's how he expresses his worry, cupping the side of his face to turn it to face him.]

You're fucking... [He lets out a heavy sigh; panic and worry sitting heavily at the base of his stomach. But-- Blood, right? It's like a cure-all for vampires. Eames hastily pulls off his shirt and leans over to get an arm under Arthur to try and pull him upright.] You need to drink.

[Arthur makes an effort to open his eyes when Eames actually picks him up. He's been vaguely aware of the blood pumping through Eames' veins the whole time but now Eames is telling him to drink...? He can't - Eames doesn't know how much Arthur needs and that he might not be able to stop.]

No, stop.

[He puts his hand on Eames' chest and pushes. It's not as strong as he usually is. In fact it's not strong at all.]

[Yeah, that... Only makes Eames more convinced Arthur needs this.]

Arthur.

[He pushes Arthur's hand away and raises his eyebrows, not really bothering to hide the concern on his face. He doesn't know what'll happen to Arthur in this state if he doesn't feed, but Eames would wager it isn't good.]

You need this.

No, Eames, I won't...

[He shakes his head and tries to turn away to lie back down on the bed. He'll sleep this off. Or die. Something other than draining Eames of his blood.]

[Eames stubbornly keeps holding Arthur up, fairly sure he doesn't have the strength to really fight him about him about it. Truthfully he doesn't especially want to do this, but he'd rather need a blood transfusion himself than let Arthur die like this because he won't drink. It's stupid, but also not even a question he's considering.]

Arthur, if I have to tap a vein and decant blood into your mouth myself I will.

[Arthur puts his hand on Eames' shoulder and tries to give him a look. Eames doesn't get how badly this could go. Even if Eames just taps his own vein like he offered to Arthur might not be able to stop himself.]

[Still, maybe he can. He's getting scared now, now that he's not moving, he worries that he might not be able to get up again if he lets himself fall asleep. It's terrifying and the blood smells so good and like a beacon of life.]

[So he leans forward and tries to pull Eames toward him at the same time, baring his fangs and pressing his lips to Eames' neck. He feels too weak to even bite him, but instinct kicks in and he sinks his teeth into Eames' skin, and god it tastes so good. He's consumed by his need for blood all at once and the blood is all that exists for him.]

[Eames gasps when he feels Arthur's teeth puncture his skin, and Eames brings a hand up to the back of Arthur's head. It doesn't feel good, not the way it does when they've done this before, but he sucks in a breath and waits patiently. Arthur's never messed up before, despite the overwhelming number of things that could go wrong. The situation is different, but it makes Eames confident he can trust Arthur to stop at the right time regardless.]

[Arthur can't think about anything other than the blood right now. He feels it filling him, starting to wash away his pain in slow waves as he drinks. It's not enough, it feels like it'll never be enough, but the warm body beneath his hands is still pulsing with it and he needs more.]

[It fills him enough that he starts to feel his strength returning as muscle fibres sew themselves back together and bruises start to disappear. His fingers dig in, one hand on the back of Eames' neck and the other between his shoulder blades, and he bites down harder. The blood flow needs to be quicker; he needs more, and nothing else enters his mind in this moment.]

[For a moment, Eames allows himself to think things are fine-- good, even. He can tell Arthur's feeling stronger as he drinks, and he ignores the pain of being fed upon in favour of a gentle relief at knowing Arthur's going to be fine.]

[Then, of course, Arthur bears down harder. Holding him in a grip that feels inescapable. Eames makes a sharp noise, equal parts surprise and pain, and he says Arthur's name in a question, hand balling into a fist in Arthur's hair and tugging as if he could actually just pull Arthur off.]

[Arthur makes a sound, a growl of protest, as he keeps drinking from the bite. It's getting messier as he goes, as he bites down harder and can't find it in himself to mind the potential scars on Eames' skin. Because it's not Eames' skin right now; it's just a warm body with a pulse and every one of Arthur's instincts tells him it's there for him. It's there so he can heal, and there's no point in doing things in half measures. The pain is ebbing away but it's still there, gnawing at him, and only more blood can make it go away.]

[Fuck-- Fuck. Eames swears, still tugging on Arthur's hair. There's real panic setting in, heart racing and mind practically yelling about how fucking stupid it was to get involved with a vampire. Of course this is how it'd end, drained dry in his own bed. It hurts like being bitten never has, skin burning where Arthur keeps his teeth sunk in despite Eames' struggling.]

Arthur. [Eames sucks in a breath and lifts his other hand to try and get it under Arthur's chin. Try and pry him off that way maybe. He can tell he's not strong enough, woozy and right on the edge of blacking out.] Arthur-- fuck, Arthur, please.

[Arthur takes his hand off Eames' back to grab Eames' wrist and pull it away. It's enough to distract him though, and he pulls back from the bite with the full intention of going back for another right away. The pain is a dull ache by now, lessened even more by the high of drinking so much blood at once. He's had enough that the bloodlust is less all-consuming than it was just a moment before, and the red in his vision gives way a bit to reality.]

[Reality nearly makes him throw up. Cold panic sets in as he realizes how much blood Eames has lost. It's too much, and he's the one who took it.]

No. Eames, no no no...

[He puts his hand over the bite to stop the flow of blood. It still smells so good but this is Eames. It's Eames and he needs to keep all the blood he has left.]

Please, don't. I didn't mean to...

[He doesn't think he's ever realised how strong Arthur is before. Eames has always been able to deal with most things, strong himself, and then Arthur pulls his wrist away like it's nothing and the only thing Eames can think is this is it and he closes his eyes and waits for the killing strike. Maybe he'll luck out and fall asleep first.]

[When Arthur doesn't go back for more though, it's a surprise, he doesn't even have the energy left to open his eyes, but he manages to look a little confused and lifts a hand — god it feels heavy — and puts it over Arthur's on his neck. He can't really put any pressure down himself, but it's some small comfort to find his hand there instead of teeth.]

... We should really consider a safe word.

[He probably won't remember saying it later, blacking out moments later with a certainty that he's lost too much blood to come back from this. Body slumping toward Arthur because the effort of staying upright is too much.]

[They're probably not the best last words, but in his defence, Eames has been otherwise preoccupied.]

Edited 2016-09-20 13:30 (UTC)

[The fact that Eames would go out with such a dumb fucking joke makes Arthur mad for half a second, but it's quickly over taken with frantic worry again. Eames' heart is still beating which is a hopeful sign, but everything else looks bad. Really bad. Arthur doesn't dare take his hand off the bite in case it starts to pour out of him, so he shakily looks for his phone and searches through his contacts. There's a vampire who works nights at the hospital, one he helps out from time to time. She'll know what to do. She has to, this is--]

Hello? It's Arthur. It's Eames, he's...

[When the ambulance comes, Arthur's still holding onto the bite, afraid to let go. He has Eames lowered down to his lap and his free hand in on his chest waiting desperately for every weak heartbeat. His mind is moving too fast and he almost panics every time he tricks himself into thinking it's too long, it's been too long, this is it, he's gone...]

[His friend from the hospital rushes in to help clean everything up, clean the blood off of Arthur's hands and face, put a bandage on Eames' neck, and then she calls up the other EMTs. Hours later Arthur's sitting by Eames' bedside looking wrecked and terrified, anxiously looking out the window because the sun's going to come up in half an hour and he couldn't stay even if he wanted to.]

[He feels fucking horrendous.]

[Which is a good sign, in its way, and part of Eames feels relieved to stoll be alive when he comes to. A much louder part, however, groans in complaint when he becomes aware of the way hos head is pounding and how bright it is and how much he wants to eat something and everything.]

[He grumbles something that might almost be words and pulls his covers up over his head in protest.]

[Arthur's nearly startled when Eames makes a noise, but he hesitates before he gets out of his chair. He wants to ask how he feels or tell him how thankful he is that he's awake but instead he just stands and looks down at him with a deep and worried frown.]

Eames.

Hey.

[His voice is a bit hoarse, but that's mostly to do with how long he's been asleep — even a saline drip can't save you from sounding like shit when you wake up.]

[Eames pulls the covers down, and it's only when he commits to being awake that he realises where he is. And why. He pulls the covers back and looks down at the cannula in his arm and frowns, resisiting the urge to pull it out and leave. He's lost enough blood already.]

How long was I asleep?

[Arthur looks up at the clock even though he's been watching it tick for what feels like forever.]

Five or six hours.

[No wonder he feels awful. Eames sighs and turns onto his side, and then immediately rolls back onto his back with a pained groan and lifts a hand to his forehead. Fucking hell.]

I must look like shit.

[Arthur elects not to comment on that, looking down at his hands on the edge of the bed instead. It's always hard to apologize, but this time it feels harder because of how badly he fucked up. His voice is a bit hoarse and shaky as he speaks.]

Eames, I'm sorry. I should have been able to stop. I...

[His voice dies and he shakes his head.]

I can leave if you want.

No--

[It's hasty, how he says it, but that should just speak to his feelings about it. Eames has some complicated feelings about what's happened, but he knows he doesn't want to be alone right now. It's too fresh-- too raw, and despite himself it's left Eames feeling a little vulnerable.]

Stay. [He pauses, and offers a tired smile.]But get me something to eat too.

[It'd break his heart if it was still beating, so Arthur can't bring himself to say anything in rebuttal because he knows Eames is probably too tired to consider the reality of the situation. Over the past few hours Arthur has been considering leaving for good, taking himself out of Eames' life, but that conversation is maybe for later when Eames doesn't need someone there with him. Which he does, even if that someone is the person who caused this mess.]

[So he goes and gets Eames a sandwich and a couple bottles of water. When he brings them back, he leaves them with Eames and then turns, looking out the window with a tired look on his face.]

I have to go home soon.

[Eames frowns at that, hand stopping midway where it was reaching for the sandwich. He doesn't want to be needy, for a plethora of reasons, but he really wants Arthur here.]

Okay.

[He can't really keep the disappointment out of his voice, but he won't argue.]

[Arthur sighs heavily and turns to look at Eames, staying back by the window. His voice is tired but steady, now that he knows Eames isn't going to throw him out immediately. It's just on him to throw himself out.]

I'm sorry. I don't know what to say, I'm just... I'm so sorry.

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