ruffians | baby come back

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baby come back

[It's been some time since Eames has made the trip to Arthur's place, he's forgotten how long the walk from the station is. He kind of regrets not getting a cab or at least waiting for a bus because it is pissing it down with rain and Eames doesn't typically feel the cold that much, but he's soaked to the bone and his clothes are sticking to him and the wind cuts through him something awful. His hair is plastered to his forehead and he's pretty sure these shoes are ruined, to the point he doesn't even think about walking through puddles because it's not like his feet can get any more cold and wet at this point.]

[It's awful. He feels awful. He's cold and soaked and he can't feel his fingers and he just feels so guilty that it's almost scary. It's not like Eames has never been rude or said something uncalled for, but sometimes Eames is cruel and he's never been like that toward Arthur before. At first because he never cared enough, and then because he cared too much, and it's easy to forget how fucking easy it is for him. How he can target what upsets someone so easily and just twist it like a knife, make it into a weapon because he's angry and someone else is a convenient target to take it out on.]

[The worst part, maybe, is that Arthur was trying to help. He was just trying to be helpful and there's a million ways Eames could've told him he couldn't without being an asshole about it, but instead he pushed and he pushed and Arthur left and god he hates it. He's so fucking mad at himself. Spent days alone in the house waiting like it was just gonna blow over and Arthur would just come home as if it was some dumb little spat he needed an hour to cool off from.]

[Arthur's not gone forever, he's relatively sure. At some point he'd come home and be the bigger man about it, but wouldn't that just be another insult on top of everything? To make Arthur be the one to make the peace when Eames is the one who fucked things up to begin with? So here he is, sodden and freezing and miserable, knocking on Arthur's door like he basically never did before.]

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[He feels small under Arthur's gaze, small and pathetic. It makes him hesitate, suddenly aware of how important it is he gets this right. Saying the right thing is rarely a concern for him, it's something he's pretty good at after all, but looking at Arthur makes something twist inside him and he can't seem to look him in the eye for long.]

I fucked up-- I really, really fucked up.

[They both know that, but it's important for him to admit, a good starting place. He looks aside, working his jaw as he tries to force his way through how difficult this is for him.]

I don't want you to think that's how I think of you. I just-- I was mad and I wanted a fight because that's easy and I know you worry about that stuff, so that's what I went after. It was fucking-- [he shakes his head] I was being cruel and petty and-- God, Arthur, I'm so fucking sorry.

[Everything he says is kind of tumbling out at this point, not exactly the measured apology he thought he was going to give, but he can't stop himself. Almost looking physically pained when he looks back at Arthur's face, desperate to be heard. Understood. Maybe forgiven, but he could hardly hold it against Arthur if he told him to leave.]

[He swallows.]

I never-- I've never thought of you that way. You're so, so brilliant and sharp and I love that. I love listening to you talk about all that shit I don't care about because I love the passion in your voice.

-- It's not even just that you're smart. You're always pushing and trying to understand, and it's what drew me to you in the first place. It's the reason I kept working with you and it's why I enjoyed talking to you and it's part of why I love you so much. There are things you can't understand, sure, just like there's shit I'll never understand about being mortal. But that doesn't mean you're less than or too young or whatever, and I can't say enough how sorry I am because that's not what I think.

[He sighs, suddenly run out of steam, and pushes his hair back off his forehead. Looks down for a moment and then back at Arthur, deflated and tired.]

I'll leave if you want, but it was important. It's important that I apologise.

[Hearing all of this is like reopening a wound, in a way. He pointedly wasn't thinking about their fight until he opened the door, and it's tough to think about it now, so it hurts and feels like a breath of fresh air all at the same time. Seeing Eames like this is surprising and Arthur didn't even realize he needed such a genuine apology until this moment. The words wash over him and they feel true and on some level Arthur knows they're true, but part of him is still hurting and he can't just pretend that isn't real as well. This is the first step, the hardest step by far, and Arthur's so grateful that Eames took it, so while it would be easier to turn him away to think alone for a while it would also be cruel and wrong.]

[He's well trained in keeping his most vulnerable emotions to himself, so while his eyes soften a touch he also clenches his jaw and swallows, taking a deep breath as he steps back from the door and swings it open a touch.]

Come in.

[Truth be told, he wasn't expecting the invitation, and Eames stands there dumbly for a moment before it sinks in that Arthur's not closing the door in his face and he steps through.]

[He must look pitiful, he certainly feels it. He makes some attempt to right himself, pulls his shirt away from his chest, but it sticks right back to him with a horrible reminder of how cold and uncomfortable he is. Leaving a puddle in Arthur's doorway because he's almost scared to go anywhere he's not explicitly asked to be.]

[Eames frowns, looking at Arthur expectantly. Not moving or saying a word for fear of fucking this up all over again.]

[Arthur sighs and closes the door behind Eames, turning back down the hall to the linen closet for a towel. He sets it over the back of one of the chairs in his living room and then heads to the kitchen.]

You want a beer?

[His tone is still heavy and exhausted and he's definitely not just done with this, but they may as well get a bit more comfortable.]

Yeah.

[Eames watches Arthur go and then looks at the towel, and then down at himself. Frowning deeply for a moment or two before he makes the decision that he's just gonna have to get undressed if he doesn't want to ruin Arthur's furniture.]

[It'd be weird if Arthur came back and he was naked though, so Eames toes out of his shoes and socks first, and looks for somewhere to put his jacket where it won't... drip everywhere.]

[He is broadly unsuccessful and ends up with it bundled over his arms and hugged to his chest.]

[Arthur's apartment has significantly less personality than it did before he moved in with Eames. Almost everything that made it his has found a new home at Eames' place so this feels more like a bachelor pad than anything else. It's made this time apart feel just a little colder.]

[Not as cold as Eames must be feeling at the moment. Arthur comes back with a beer already open for him and sets it down on the coffee table, putting his hands on his hips and pacing restlessly like he meant to sit down and then thinks better of it. It takes a moment for him to speak.]

I'm still... I'm really mad at you. I've been really mad at you.

[He's not going to address the fact that Eames is standing so awkwardly and dripping everywhere because quite frankly Eames' comfort is not a priority right now.]

[He's not expecting to be accommodated, so it's fine. He just stays standing where he is, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible.]

I know.

[Eames frowns, looking guiltily down at the jacket in his arms.]

I shouldn't have said what I did, there's no excuse for it.

No, there isn't.

[Arthur spares him a look - he looks tired and defeated, because thinking about this has just been wearing him down every day since it happened - and it occurs to him that Eames is truly beautiful even as miserable as he looks right now. Maybe it's just the fact that he hasn't looked him in the eyes for a while or maybe he's just now letting himself feel something for him again, but it almost hurts how much he loves him and how much he wants for all of this to go away.]

[He shrugs and shakes his head.]

I just need to know you're not going to do it again. It made me feel like I was an idiot for ever thinking I could be anything other than a warm body to you.

[That stings to hear, Eames actually grimaces at the words and shakes his head, shoulders drooping in almost a caricature of sadness.]

Arthur, you mean everything to me.

[He looks up at him again, brows knit together in upset.]

I hate it; that I made you feel like you were anything less than that. I swear I'll never talk to you like that again as long as we're together.

[He hates making promises, Arthur knows that, and his voice comes out a little hushed when he says it as though he's worried someone outside this room could hear. But it's earnest, open. A case where he doesn't especially mind being bound to his word.]

[Arthur sighs and looks around the room, honestly just trying to let himself accept it and let go. That's what he wants, even though his chest still aches. He finally nods, glancing up at Eames again.]

Okay.

[It feels like all he can say for now. He looks at the drips Eames is leaving on the floor and sighs again, nodding his head down the hall.]

You should go shower. I can put your clothes in the wash.

Okay.

[He nods and looks down again, at the rain he's left on the floor, and he tries to be quick about walking to the bathroom to minimise how much water he leaves behind him.]

[He doesn't bother closing the bathroom door behind him, turning the water on to heat up while he strips out of his clothes, a sharp hiss at the cold air hitting his skin when he peels his shirt off and puts it in the sink. He puts everything in the sink instead of just dumping it on the floor or in the hamper.]

[The hot water is a welcome change, and Eames just spends some time standing under the spray to warm himself up. And to think. Arthur's hard to read when he's like this, but he hasn't told Eames to leave. Even offered to wash his clothes. Those are good signs, he thinks. Maybe the shower's for him too, some time to figure out where his head's at.]

[The thought does cross his mind that Arthur could tell him to leave when he comes out of the shower and he'd have no choice, but Eames decides not to dwell on that.]

[Arthur waits for the water to be running and then walks in to take Eames' clothes without saying anything. It's true that he needed a moment just to reflect on everything Eames has said, and it helps to keep his hands busy as he double checks everything to make sure he doesn't ruin it before he puts it in the washer. He even finds a pair of his own sweatpants and hangs them over the door just in case Eames wants something to wear when he gets out.]

[Eames takes his time, not that he especially needs to, but he thinks they could both benefit from a few extra minutes in the shower here.]

[When he comes out he's careful to dry off enough so he's not dripping everywhere, towelling his hair and feeling exhaustion seep into him as he does. He breathes a short laugh when he spots the sweatpants though, a little thankful, even as he worries they might not be loose enough not to make him look ridiculous. But he pulls them on anyway and comes back out to find Arthur, to find out what's next.]

[Arthur's sitting on the couch, nursing his beer again, until he hears Eames comes out of the shower. He knows what he basically wants to happen next, but he also has his pride, so when Eames comes in he just sighs and crosses the room to him, working his jaw like he wants to say something and then looking down at the floor.]

I really missed you, you know.

[He says it like this fact deeply annoys him. In some ways it does.]

I missed you too.

[He folds his arms over his chest, a little defensive. Like he's waiting for the other shoe to drop.]

I hate going to sleep and waking up without you. Especially when it's my fault.

[Arthur glances up at Eames' arms when he crosses them, feeling guilty for how stand-offish he's probably being.]

Yeah, I...

[He looks away and shakes his head.]

Maybe I shouldn't have left. I could have stayed and tried to sort it out, but I... [he sighs] I needed to clear my head.

It's...

['Fine'? 'Okay'? Eames sighs, a little hesitant to say much of anything here, but he should say something instead of passively agreeing with Arthur.]

You needed space. Maybe you still do, I don't-- I'm not really in a position to complain.

No.

[Arthur says it kind of abruptly, looking back at Eames.]

Right now I feel like I've had all the space I need.

[He curls his shoulders forward a little, hesitant to ask for the affection he wants. It feels embarrassing to want to just be held for a little while, for Eames to hold him like he means something to him.]

[That sounds like an invitation, or at least Eames really wants it to be one. He steps in close to Arthur, looking at him with a little worry in his expression for a moment as he leans his head toward him. He noses at Arthur's face, lifting a hand to cup his cheek and hesitating just briefly before he goes for the kiss. Slow and gentle the whole way.]

[Arthur leans right into it, finally putting his hands on Eames' waist lightly as he responds just as slowly but clearly a bit desperate. He's wanted this so badly for what feels like an eternity.]

[Eames' eyes fall closed and he rests a hand on Arthur's hip, letting out a quiet noise in desperation. He almost wants to just pull Arthur's arms around him, but he doesn't, dragging his hand up to rest it on Arthur's chest with another noise.]

[Arthur pulls away after a little while, resting his forehead against Eames' forehead with a shaky sigh.]

How about we stay here tonight and I'll come home with you tomorrow.

[Eames' eyes are still closed, and he nods. He feels like he'd do anything right now if Arthur wanted it anyway, but he doesn't want to go back out in the rain right now.]

That sounds good.

[Arthur brings his hand up to Eames' chin to pull him in for another kiss. This one's hungrier than the last, and he takes a few steps backwards toward the bedroom to indicate he's thinking about being horizontal now.]

[Eames goes with all of this easily, putting his hands on Arthur's hips for a little stability as they go.]

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