loadedparadox | Risking everything he never knew he had

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Risking everything he never knew he had - For eamesofdreams

It was like a dream collapsing around you after the dreamer woke up. It was all falling apart before Arthur had ever really had a chance to know what he had. He hadn't wanted to leave Ariadne, holding that petite form to his with a hope that it would just all go away. Except it wouldn't and she was right. She deserved to know everything, to make an informed decision. Deep down he knew it was all hers to make. It always had been.

He cheated in tracking down Eames. An hour earlier and he'd have looked in every bar and hole in the wall dive near the warehouse. Instead he used the GPS in Eames' phone, figuring the other man hadn't known Arthur had turned it on one day after realizing just how close Eames and Ariadne were. He had to look out for her, now, then, always.

In the time between leaving her place and arriving at the bar, he had pulled himself together. Pushing open the door, standing there lit by pulsating neon and dim behind the bar lights, Arthur wasn't thinking of the image he presented. Stony face with his jaw tight and dark eyes narrowed, his suit impeccable and probably costing more than the cars some of the people drove. He didn't care about anything but tracking down Eames and doing what he'd promised. Finding out just where things stood.

And if he got angry enough over the replaying image in his head - the one of Eames smiling as he shot himself - then he had no qualms about settling this with a hard right other than words.

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"Stop talking about the fucking hat," Eames shot back, narrowing his eyes a little and fixing his gaze on Arthur, it's still hazy, still a little like it wants to break off and like he still wants to just escape but he's not moving, "It was stupid, Arthur. Everything was stupid. And then you were angry on my behalf and I just - I would've told you I was glad. That you were back in my bloody life. How fucking pathetic is that? How fucking pathetic am I?"

He crosses his arm over his knee, drawing them up so he can tap a rhythm on his knee. "The thing is - the thing is that everyone's right. I do care, I care too much. It's - I don't even fucking mind, you know? I don't want anything from you. This isn't - I just. Your fucking shoes Arthur, you ruined your shoes. They were nice shoes."

"Why? It is really and truly a horrid hat," he murmured softly, that stony expression softening as Eames went on. He sighed, reaching out and catching Eames' wrist with his hand, thumb running over that spot where the cuff sat from the PASIV.

"You quit smoking because I ruined my shoes," he asked, not even trying to hide the surprise in his voice. God, you're a fool," he laughed, shaking his head slightly. "You're more important than a pair of shoe, Eames. Even if you don't get that."

"Couldn't be tempted to keep fucking doing it, you'd run out of footwear and make my life a misery, mm?" Instead of looking up, he looks down, at Arthur's hand on his wrist, the part where they're connected and it's fitting, somehow.

"Years ago my mother went into hospital on Christmas Eve, she didn't come back out again. The anniversary - " Eames sighs, soft and a little bit still frayed out at the edges, "It's in a couple of weeks. I didn't expect you or Ariadne to notice the fact that I turn into a lunatic at this time of the year and then you did and -. Usually I go somewhere nobody knows me, I drink for the whole sodding month, smoke myself dry, fuck up, and then get over it."

"Again I'm going to repeat, you're more important than the shoes. Though I would say I'm all for the lack of smoking." Again that soft smile, trying to get one from Eames.

"We noticed, and if that's what you want to do, then you won't be alone this time. If not, I'll get you home, cancel the flight to Morocco, and you can still act like a lunatic. But we're not going to run from it, not going to shun you. You have to understand that." His thumb brushed the inside of Eames' wrist. "And you can hate me all you want, but I don't hate you, Eames. I never have."

"Don't be kind, why are you being kind?" Eames' fingers flex slightly, and he rubs at his face with the spare palm, groaning, "Jesus fucking Christ. Arthur, I'm a fucking mess. You should - you should just go and take Ariadne and leave because I'm just. Fuck. How the hell did you find me? You bastard, are you a fucking stalker?"

"Because you're an ass and someone has to be nice to you," he murmured softly. He didn't mention Ariadne again, unsure what to say about the talk they'd had, and how to ask him what they should do from here. "I turned on your phone's GPS like a week ago," he admitted softly. "I was worried about yo, after the snow thing."

"I'm chucking my phone in the bin, you scary arsehole."

And there, just at the very corner of his mouth is the beginning of a smile, not quite reaching it but it's better than he's looked all night truth be told. "I'm fine, Arthur. You don't have to stick around and make sure I'm not about to start a bar brawl."

"That isn't why I'm here. Okay, so my first plan was to come here and kick your ass because... I know it was a dream, but shooting yourself is better than talking to me about this," he challenged. "I didn't come here to stop that fight. Start it, sure. Now... Now I want to know you're not getting on that plane, that you're not planning to leave... us."

He holds his breath for a moment, obviously torn but it's Arthur and the fact that he said us is maybe enough. "Okay. Okay. I'm not - I'll stay. But Arthur, I swear to god if me being around ruins it for you two then I can't be here anymore."

He sighed, looking away. "I don't know if there is a she and I anymore, Eames. Maybe there should be. Just... Don't go." He looked back at Eames. "I've never been good at dating anyway. I can just... You know how I was before Mal... left. I can go back to that if I feel the need for intimacy."

He arched a brow, looking very serious. "I'm not deleting the picture though."

"I'm going to kick your arse all the way back to her flat, you twat."

He breathes out, low and quiet before he nudges Arthur's knee with his foot, "You're good with her, you're much less of an arse. And I know for a fact that you mean the whole sodding universe to her, darling. So I really will force you back there myself if I have to."

A minute - "Or I will when gravity starts being friendly to me again."

"I don't know if she wants me anymore,' he pointed out. "I told her how much I cared for her and that I wanted what we had but she sent me here. You're not the only one that can mess it all up."

"She loves you and if you had left, I would have had to come and shot you, and not in a dream. Just... Stay and we'll work out getting back to before I got drunk and screwed this up."

"Really? Is that what you're going to do, let all of this out and then cement it all back in again. You can still hear a heart under the floorboards, Arthur."

He twitches, just slightly, just enough and then he's leaning forward, eyes serious, voice calm, "Please don't be an idiot, darling. Trust her, she's a very capable young woman. And also, she will hunt you down and smash your head in. Or set Helios on you. Just-"

He sighs, closing his eyes for a second more before opening them again, "Don't jam all of that away again, mm? I meant what I said before, even with being an arse, you're still very special. You don't appreciate the right head-warming garments, but you're still special."

Arthur opened his mouth to answer, stopped and closed his mouth with a snap of his teeth. His hand slid down, finger curling around Eames'. "And you'll do what? Pretend we didn't have this talk? Not call me Darling because of that ID?" Even though he just had, hadn't he? "Pretend I don't have feelings for you both? If you can do that, why can't I? How can I wonder and know how you feel and take away from her or you?"

It was a cruel way of challenging him, but it was the truth as he saw it. "And the hat does nothing for you. Wear it to work and it will meet the same fate as the crane."

"Is that really your last name?" he murmurs, looking from their hands to his eyes again and back, squeezing slightly. "And no, no. I don't know what I'll do, Arthur. I really don't bloody know but I've drank a bottle of sodding scotch and my arm's killing me so you can't really expect any proper logic. But, fuck this. Fuck, if you try and close yourself up I am not giving up, I will drive you insane, I will turn all your notes into cranes and wear all the hats."

That made Arthur jerk lightly, shaking his head. "No. I took it because I wanted to hear it even if I'd left you," he admitted in a low voice. There was a long pause, just watching Eames' face. "One of these days I'll tell you my real name, though Arthur is my name,' he promised.

"What did you get this time,' he asked, nodding at his arm. "And if it's my name, I am going to hit you."

"Oh darling," he murmurs, soft and almost fond, turning his hand so that he can actually slide his fingers through Arthur's. "You're a twat. God."

He shifts though, letting go breifly to shrug his way out of one sleeve of the jacket and lift up the corner of his t-shirt. Curving its way around one of his older tattoos is small, black script 'J'ai allumé le feu.' He stays quiet though, knowing that Arthur will recognise it, knows that he'll understand where it's from.

"Oh the sweet things you say to me," Arthur said, tones dry ones more. "No wonder I never understood just what you thought of me," he said, looking at their hand joined like that, even as Eames pulled away.

He knew the words, the meaning, the song they came from. "Yeah, still going to kick your ass once that heals," he promised, reaching for Eames' hand once more. "Do you have any idea what your little dream stunt did to me," he asked in the softest of whispers.

"I didn't think you'd - " he swallows hard, clearing his throat, "I didn't think it mattered."

Didn't think shooting himself in the head was a big deal, apparently, "You've seen me die before, Arthur."

"It matters. Understood?"

He was quiet a moment, finding the right words. "I've never seen you die because you'd rather death than me."

"No. No. Jesus, Arthur. I just -. I didn't trust myself around you."

"What don't you trust," he asked, encouraging him. "See? Taking advantage of you being drunk."

He just laughs a little, leaning back again and watching Arthur quietly for a moment. Someone laughs down the street and Eames flicks his gaze towards the sound before back.

"Darling, you were drunk and impressionable and since then all I can think about is hitting you or kissing you. Of course I didn't fucking trust myself around you."

Arthur tenses at the sound but he doesn't look away from Eames. "Oh but you didn't mind sending me a picture of you nearly naked," he teased. "I see." Rocking back slightly on his heel, he held his arms out slightly. "I'm here. Take your best shot," he said, though it wasn't clear which one he meant.

He makes a sound, a quiet half shuffling laugh because this is still ridiculous and he shoves the hand not wrapped around Arthur's into his jacket pocket to pull free his totem. Reality. But still -

"Cheating, darling. Giving the drunk man too many options."

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