loadedparadox | (no subject)

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For:

eamesofdreams
What: Playing poolside
Warning: Adult themes and for mature audiences only.

Following Eames into the cabana, Arthur pulled the curtains closed and secured them. He knew he should be going to see Mike, see to things with him and after Tony's behavior but it was the difference in the man that Arthur had once been and who he was now. Those he answered to were secondary to him now, perhaps even less, whereas those that he loved came first and always would.

Yet he didn't move for Eames to touch and fondle. He watched him, looking a bit nervous.

"You're certain you're okay from what happened?"

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That made him sigh, shaking his head. "That isn't what I meant. You have to know I don't think that."

"We've got to stop having these conversations when I'm not wearing any pants, love."

He gives Arthur a gentle little smile, fingers curling underneath his chin, "I know you don't, but we don't like it when you end up putting yourself down for us. We're able to take care of ourselves."

"I don't know. We do seem to be our most honest when one, or both of us, is without clothes. Might be helping."

He wanted to look away but his gaze met Eames'. "When have I put myself down? Not starting a war with the second to a mob boss is a bit beyond you taking care of yourself. It is me not giving him the satisfaction of Mike approving my death."

"You're not standing up for yourself, Arthur," he replies, and there's just the hint of something stern behind his voice, like this is something he doesn't like, doesn't agree with, "It's the same thing. You're better than anyone here and you shouldn't have to let someone walk all over you."

His expression froze, everything a bit hollow and shuttered as it used to so often be. Pushing himself to his feet, he stared down at Eames, considering his words, taking them poorly and then giving a single nod. "I apologize that my behavior hasn't been satisfactory," he said in a low, careful voice. "I'm sorry."

Despite the lack of clothing he stood as he often did in a suit, ramrod straight and tense.

He doesn't rise, just sits on the ground, looking up at Arthur. Pinching his nose, he sighs.

"You know - sometimes you can be such an idiot. I'm not telling you off, Arthur. All I'm saying is that you've got to stop letting people use you as a doormat."

"You say it as if I allow anyone and everyone to do that. I am refusing to start a war. You don't know how badly Mike wants me back here, the bargaining I have made to ensure this visit went smoothly and now you're calling me a doormat because I protect you and her and myself?" He sounded so stunned, utterly hurt, and turned to look for his shorts.

"I..." He snapped his teeth closed, closing his eyes a minute, trying to control his emotions. "As you said, apparently being an idiot."

"Darling," Eames is moving then, rising to his feet fluidlym reaching for him, "You're taking what I'm saying out of context. I'm not attacking you."

Arthur didn't move away, jaw tight but there was nothing in him that wanted to move away from that touch. "Then what," he asked in a soft whisper. "Because it sounds like you're calling me a doormat for doing my best for those I love. Not laying him out, not putting him in the hospital, is not being a doormat. It is being diplomatic and knowing that I will never come back here, never endure this, again.

"All right, I'm sorry, okay? I apologise. I just don't like having to watch someone put you down because of who you are. You're worried about how I see you now, because of what he said, and that's making me furious, do you understand?"

"I don't need you to apologize, Eames. You're speaking your mind. If that's how you feel, I accept that." He leaned in towards Eames, meeting the other man's gaze. "And if you do see me differently because of this, then I need to know. I can't fix things if I don't find out what's wrong."

"No, I don't see you any bloody different because of something that wanker said."

He was silent a moment and then lightly brushed his fingers against the inside of Eames' wrist. "Maybe I'm worried that I do," he said softly. "That I'm seeing myself as less of the man I've been because of what you saw." He was hesitant in his touch, watching Eames closely, trying to judge where they stood after his outburst.

"You shouldn't," he comments quietly, hesitantly, "You shouldn't let a roach like him win."

"He hasn't won. I have you. I have Ariadne. I have a life that I never thought I could have. You've given me family, Eames. He hasn't won anything. Not unless his acts lose me what matters."

"Fine," he replies, spreading his hands in a gesture of surrender, "All right Arthur, it's fine and I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pushed, you know what you're doing."

He snorted before he caught himself, looking away suddenly. For a long time he said nothing, considering his words. "No, Eames. I don't. I've never actually had a relationship to compare this all to. The closest I have is Mal and Dom."

"I shouldn't have pushed," Eames replies softly, searching for the rest of his clothes now the mood has passed, "Not my place."

"Eames..." He sighed, moving to catch his arm but hesitating, worrying he was asking for too much. "Yes, it is. You're my boyfriend, part of my life. If you're bothered by something, you have right to say it. Just like we do. Would you want us holding things back because it might upset one of us or should we talk about it?"

"And I've said it, and now I'm not pushing," he replies, tugging his shorts back on and looking at Arthur, "Darling, it's fine."

Arthur watched Eames a moment, his expression pinched, pained until he took a breath, schooling his features and reaching for his shorts. "Understood. Of course. Fine." Voice the sort he used for work, pulling himself back in and protected, mentally running over it all to try and determine where he'd gone wrong.

"I wish you wouldn't do that, darling."

He runs a hand through his hair, disordering the still damp mess as he glances at Arthur, "We're not fighting, so you don't need to put your walls up and shut me out."

Arthur paused, fingers curled around the cord of his trunks, about to tie them. He glanced at Eames, mouth opening and then closing before he smiled. It was a soft smile, watery, but he smile as he tied the strings. "Nope. Not fighting. Like you said, we're fine. I'm not shutting you out. I swear."

"Okay."

He turns away to get his breathing in control, ignoring the unhappy swoop of his stomach. Miscommunication has never really been Eames' thing and now it makes him feel awkward in his own skin.

"Eames..." He sighed, dropping down to sit. "Please. If you need us to be fine, then we're fine. I swear. I'm sorry I am uncomfortable here but I'm not shutting you out, just trying not to worry."

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plagiary - 2011-06-17 11:11 (UTC) - Expand

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