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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[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.]

[Once they get to the bedroom, Arthur withdraws and pulls off his shirt quickly before leaning back in again as he backs up all the way to the bed.]

[God he just wants to put his hands all over Arthur. He presses his hands against Arthur's chest when his shirt's gone, dragging them down his stomach and around to his hips. He's so beautiful and solid and perfect and Eames is overwhelmed by how lucky he is to have this man in his life right now. A sentiment he expresses by kissing Arthur a little more desperately as they move.]

[Arthur wraps his hands loosely around Eames' neck until he gets to the bed, and he tries to keep kissing Eames as he reaches behind himself and lowers himself down to it. He just wants Eames on him and holding him and just generally reminding him that he doesn't have to spend any more time alone.]

[Eames goes with, putting a hand down on the bed so he doesn't just fall on him, immediately straddling Arthur when the opportunity presents itself and cupping his face in both hands.]

[Arthur lets out a soft moan, putting his hands all over Eames' back and sides and chest as he kisses him. He feels so good, and when Arthur pulls away it's definitely reluctant.]

Feels like it's been a while.

[He doesn't know what he's being hesitant about or why but there's definitely a trace of it in his voice.]

Yeah.

[Eames arches a little under Arthur's hands, eyes scanning his face for a moment to try and figure out what he's feeling exactly.]

We can just... Lay down. [He lifts a hand to brush through Arthur's hair.] I just want to feel close to you.

I'm just not sure I...

[He's felt vulnerable with Eames before, but never quite this flavour. It's hard for him to wrap his head around - acknowledging that Eames has the ability to hurt him the way he did was a struggle all on its own, and now feeling like he needs him this much almost seems weak, even if Arthur keeps telling himself it's not. He feels tired and raw and frustrated and needy all at the same time and it's leaving him in a state of confusion about how this should proceed. He keeps his hands on Eames, though, sure that whatever happens he wants him to stay close.]

Whatever you want, Arthur. Anything.

[He doesn't know if that's helpful or not, but it's true. He's fairly certain it's the case most of the time anyway, but right now it feels especially important. If only to make things up to him, or prove how much he cares or some other shit like that.]

Even if you want me to go out right now and... Find your favourite brand of cereal. I'll do it.

No, I...

[He puts his hand on the side of Eames' face to drag his thumb along Eames' cheekbone.]

Just forget I said anything.

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