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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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."

He watches Eames, knows he's checking reality. It make Arthur almost smile. He glances over the man's head and then, with a grimace, plants his hand against the bricks with a look of distaste. The movement caused him to leave over Eames.

"Better," he asked, leaning down to just barely brush his mouth against Eames'. He was in this far. He needed to know.

There's a moment where he seems about to pull away, stop this, but it's there, still ticking at the back of his skull. Without pausing to think about it, Eames leans forward, wrapping his hand around the back of Arthur's neck and obliterating the last little bit of space between them.

With a hum, Eames kisses Arthur with just the barest hint of desperation, of need, like he can't remember that he shouldn't and he just wants.

They were on the ground in an alley behind a seedy bar, kissing. It couldn't have been anymore cliche unless it was the type of place Arthur had frequented earlier that week. He didn't want to think about that. He wanted to think about Eames. The taste of scotch on his lips, not remembering which of them started drinking it first but knowing that taste alone and now knowing it would always remind him of this kiss

Especially the moment when his weight shifted and his knee dropped to the ground, hitting something wet and he damn sure didn't want to know what it was.

"Fucking hell," he muttered against Eames' beautiful, full lips. "You owe me slacks now."

"The whole bloody wardrobe if you want," he murmurs, breathing in the same air and it makes him ache, thumb smoothing over the back of his neck still. "Anything, you should just - you need to know that."

But still, he shouldn't do this. He really shouldn't. The breath he takes is shakey, wobbly in a way he feels inside. "Isn't your soul shrivelling up and dying from the alley alone, Arthur?"

"If you buy it, that doesn't mean you can take it away from me," he murmured. It was wrong, a million ways wrong, and he couldn't think of anything else but Eames. The hitch in his breath, the heat of his mouth, that light touch that had Arthur leaning back against his hand even before stealing another small kiss.

"If you shut up, I can try and pretend I'm not two seconds from hitting you for picking a damn alley for this fight. You only did it because you didn't think I would follow you."

Edited 2011-01-09 02:33 (UTC)

"Yes, I know. You're a surprising creature who will venture dodgy looking alleys to win an argument," and then he's smiling, mouth curved up against Arthur's and it's stupid, it's so stupid but he cares so much, for the both of them and this is the worst and most ridiculous situation he's been in.

"Just be thankful I didn't drag you out of there by your new tattoo," he growled softly. "If I had tracked you down before..." He froze at that, sighing. He slumped slightly, having the thought to lean in to Eames for comfort, except he didn't deserve comfort. He'd done this himself.

"I've screwed up so hard."

"You really haven't," Eames reply is soft, thoughtful as he drags a hand through the hair at the nape of Arthur's neck. "You can fix it, darling. I've seen you get your way out of worst things than this."

Pressing his lips just above Arthur's temple, Eames closes his eyes for just the breifest moment, just allowing himself this one thing before he speaks, "Come on then Arthur, if we've got to put the world to rights we shouldn't be hanging around in dank alleyways. And I think we're getting in the way of a drug exchange."

"Yeah, bullets and contracts on my life are easier to deal with than l..." He stopped, sighing softly. "I'm being a greedy bastard, Eames. I can't..." He shook his head slightly, not wanting to move.

No, that wasn't true. He utterly wanted to move out of the alley, and bath. Perhaps in bleach. But moving meant possibly never having this again. "I never set out to hurt her. Or you." Except he knew he had hurt Eames. Twice now.

"Yes you can," He sounds gentle, soothing and that's just the way he has to be, the way he wants to be because these two are something and Eames isn't letting this go wrong, "Come on, you've faced down the worst crap in the world. I know Ariadne's tiny and furious, but she's Ariadne and you know she's probably doing her mind in with worry."

"I almost left," he admitted. "Not looking for you, just getting out my emergency id and walked away. For her." He paused only a second. "And you."

He rested his brow against Eames. "What do you want," he asked, realizing he'd maybe never asked anyone that outside of a job in his life.

"I want-" he pauses, blinking suddenly because what does he want? He's too drunk, too tired for this to make any sense so he does what he does best, breaking it down to the very core, the very centre of his feeling, "I want us to stick together, the three of us. I don't care what happens anymore, I don't give a shit about how weird this fucking is and what's going to happen down the line, or anything like that."

He takes another breath, trying to focus, trying to remember what it felt like before, without either of them and it was simple, yes but lonely in a way he doesn't really like, harsher. "I'm stupidly used to her asking too many questions, I'm stuck on you being there, I don't know if I could deal with that not being like it is anymore. Whatever happens, Arthur. I just want to make sure that we're all okay. I don't care about the other stuff."

It was then that Arthur smiled, a genuine smile. He squeezed Eames' hand, nuzzling lightly against the corner of his mouth. "Good. That's how I feel. I walked away from everything and everyone for Dom and he needed me but... I need what I've had recently. Even if you infuriate me to no end and we're going to fight constantly and I will probably give you more hell than I have before. I had my family before with you and Mal and Dom. I don't want to lose something like that again."

He chuckled. "Except I never kissed either of them."

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