ruffians | #vampireproblems

[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.

I know.

[Eames sighs and opens the sandwich, tentatively taking a bite to see how he feels about it.]

[Good, is the answer. As opposed to how he feels about this and how he feels about Arthur right now.]

I don't want to talk about it right now.

[Arthur nods. He doesn't particularly want to talk about it ever, but he knows it has to happen at some point. He has to give Eames the opportunity to tell him to leave.]

I should go, before sunrise...

[He gestures out the window and then stuffs both hands into his pockets.]

I'll be back tonight so we can talk.

I'll probably...

[Instinctively he looks at his wrist, but his watch isn't there. Of course. Eames sighs and looks at the sandwich in his hands instead, stomach growling a little in complaint that the food isn't in him already.]

[Why is everything today so horrible.]

I should be home by then, when you wake up.

[The frown on Arthur's face makes it clear he's calling himself stupid in his head as he looks away again.]

Right, yeah. We'll talk then.

[And with that he wanders out of the room with his shoulders slumped in shame, to go home and put himself to bed and hardly sleep all day.]

[It takes another few hours, a round of questions and blood tests, and the biggest lunch he's had in recent memory, but Eames finally manages to get discharged come mid-afternoon.]

[If only he were happy about it.]

[He gets a cab home and spends ages fretting about what to do when he gets there. He also drinks a good litre or so of water while he does. Goes to the bathroom and peels back the bandage on his neck to look at the stitches — a decision he regrets immediately — and he wills himself not to pick at them.]

[Eventually Eames settles on curling up on the couch, originally with the intention of watching something, but he falls asleep relatively quickly.]

[By the time night falls Arthur's exhausted because he's barely had a wink of sleep. He's been making plans for what he's going to do when he leaves here and what he's going to say to Eames and how he's ever going to move on if this is how they're going to break it off.]

[He doesn't need blood but he needs caffeine so he trudges out to the kitchen. He sees Eames on the way out but he decides not to bother him just yet. Instead, he elects to make some coffee and sit down in the armchair next to him, waiting for him to wake up so they can talk.]

[Eames stirs after a little while, glancing over at Arthur before he sits up with a sigh-- this doesn't look like a fun chat is about to happen.]

Hey.

Hey.

[Arthur stares down into his coffee, a very serious and sullen look on his face. This has taken a lot of thought and he can't screw it up. Part of him thinks he shouldn't be doing this right now, not with Eames still in the state he's in, but it's because Eames is in the state he's in that he has to do this.]

I think I have to leave. You can have the apartment but I don't think I should stay here. You shouldn't have me around.

What--

[Eames sits up and frowns at Arthur, looking at him like he doesn't entirely believe he's just heard what he heard. Not that he doesn't understand, and probably it's the smart thing to do, but Eames is far too in this to accept the smart things anymore.]

You can't just leave.

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