undergrounds | backdated so hard/for eames

Entry tags:

arthur,
eames

backdated so hard/for eames

It doesn't take Arthur terribly long to get bored of the vampire party. He doesn't manage to establish more connections than he already has within Islington, and those being as weak as they are don't turn up much on Raymond Harris. Nothing he can use or should be brought back to Hillingdon immediately, in any case.

So he texts Eames asking if he's still around, hoping to at least end this night on a positive note. There's a few texts back and forth until Arthur is outside, spotting Eames through the open back window of an Uber waiting to leave. He slips into the car on the other side, noticing nothing wrong at first, and asks, "back to mine?"

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Objectively speaking, Eames absolutely shouldn't be having sex when he's probably going to need at least a week to recover from last night. That kind of blood loss isn't really a 'nap and have a meal and feel better' kind of situation.

Is that going to stop Eames? Not at all. He just shrugs a shoulder and reopens the discarded box of biscuits, picking one out before he puts the box back where it was, "food first is probably a good idea."

"Alright," Arthur says before he takes another bite of cereal. And that's all Eames is going to get from him because he's still thinking over the sex bit. He's wondering what he's going to do if Eames has to stop and/or passes out while they're doing it. But he's trying to be optimistic about Eames' magic recovery times.

Eames is already rooting through Arthur's fridge and cupboards, this time for things that he could cobble together into a quick meal. A frittata sounds good. With ham and a ludicrous amount of cheese? Eames could high five himself he's a genius.

He knows his way around Arthur's kitchen by now, so he just gets underway with making the food. The heat from the stove is actually... Not great right now, but he'll power through it. Pure strength of will keeping him from getting dizzy up there.

Arthur just watches with mild curiosity as Eames goes about making them some food. He's still a little preoccupied with Eames' hair, but he'll drop it for now, since Eames clearly doesn't want to share that information with him.

"You need any help?" he asks after a while, realizing he could be doing more than sitting back and drinking coffee.

"I could always do with another coffee," Eames says, glancing over his shoulder while he busies himself peeling a potato. There's probably a lot of stuff Arthur could help with, but none of that comes to mind.

Well Arthur did offer, so he pulls himself up and grabs Eames' coffee mug, taking it with him to the coffee maker so he can refill it. Once that's done he goes back to his own coffee and his cereal to continue on with his sad pre-breakfast breakfast.

Oh sweet coffee never leave him. Eames gives an aside thanks to Arthur and gets on with what he's doing. He's usually a relatively upbeat cook, but there's none of that energy today, for entirely understandable reasons really.

Twenty minutes or so later though, there's two plates of delicious ham and potato frittata being brought over for them to eat and enjoy.

Arthur's a little more alert, now that the coffee's hit his bloodstream, so he gives Eames a thanks and sits up ready to eat. He's relatively quiet even for him, but he's too busy wondering about all the questions that Eames has already dodged, so he doesn't have much to say this morning.

Normally Eames doesn't mind silence, as much as he enjoys the sound of his own voice, he'd take a comfortable silence over talking for the sake of it any day. Right now he's looking at his plate but he's frustrated too because he knows Arthur's still going over every answer he doesn't have. It's a great quality when it's directed at literally anyone else, but Eames hates sharing and even moreso with someone like Arthur who could make his life a nightmare with the right information.

But right now Eames just doesn't have the energy to ignore it like he usually would.

"Which question is the most pressing?" Eames asks, looking up at Arthur and gesturing at him with his fork, "I can tell you're still thinking about it."

Arthur narrows his eyes at Eames. At his hair, the bandages, and he rethinks all the things Eames said last night. He doesn't know which is most pressing; in general he just wants a better picture of how Eames came to be what he is in this moment in time. Fighting his instincts to go with the most personally curious route, he decides to ask about something which could be politically useful.

"I wanna know how it actually went with Harris last night," he says, keeping his eyes trained on Eames.

Of course that's the thing he'd ask about. Eames sighs heavily, he really doesn't want to talk about it, but he owes Arthur something for last night, and him knowing the situation could well be usefull.

He puts his cutlery down and leans back in his seat — he knows he needs the food, but talking about Harris makes his stomach churn in a mix of anger and disgust and he's honestly not sure he can handle eating at the same time.

"He wanted an alliance, suggested a cheery little massacre of Daybreak and the Council. I told him he was wasting his time, because the Queen would never stand for an alliance with Islington." Eames frowns, expression tight and jaw clenched. As much as he's been keeping a lid on it, Eames is still deeply pissed off, and even thinking about it now makes the air around him almost dark with magic until Eames sighs and takes a breath. Pulling that all back in. "Seems he didn't appreciate my answer, judging by the animals who escorted me out and had a snack while they were at it."

Arthur watches him speak with a blank expression, taking in every flicker of emotion he can find. He's trying to discern whether Eames is leaving details out, and he suspects he is, but he leaves it be for now. That's the basic framework of the story and it's enough information for him.

He's silent for a little while, having put down his knife and fork and folded his hands in front of him. When he speaks his tone is a bit quieter, genuine, though he's not milking the empathy angle.

"I'm sorry," he says, and after a pause continues, "that that happened to you."

The sympathy comes as such a surprise to Eames, he stares at Arthur for a long moment as if trying to figure out if it's false or even mocking somehow. It sounds genuine but it's so alien to his experience with Arthur that Eames doesn't entirely know how to respond.

"Thanks," he settles on, not quite able to help the suspicious look he's giving Arthur right now, "it's fine, I'll live."

Arthur doesn't so much as bat an eyelash at the look he's getting. He just picks his fork back up and starts picking at the frittata again with a sigh.

"Will you tell the court?"

"It'd just end up back in my hands," Eames says with a shrug. It's a bit of an understatement of how things would go over, but suffice it to say he has no intention of telling them. Or anyone, for that matter. If he could go back in time and prevent Arthur from knowing anything about this, he would.

His main feeling on how to proceed right now is how good it's going to feel to stake that little worm in the heart. Beyond that, everything else at this moment is immaterial.

Arthur nod, knowing that that means Eames is going to keep his mouth shut and deal with it himself. Arthur can't pretend he might not do the same. That's enough of that conversation anyway, and Arthur falls silent for a moment as he continues eating, falling back into the black hole of his own thoughts. After a little while he huffs a dry laugh.

"You were pretty out of it last night," he says, "I don't know how you were planning on having sex with the state you were in."

With the quiet, Eames goes back to his food, satisfied they're done with the Raymond Harris topic for now. When Arthur speaks up, he laughs, genuinely amused instead of being embarrassed like perhaps he should be after the way he was the night before. He remembers enough of his poor attempts to come on to Arthur that he's almost amazed Arthur didn't just throw him out on his ass.

"For you, Arthur? I could probably have managed it." He's flirtatious for a whole moment before he continues, "of course it wouldn't have been good, but I'm told you can't have everything."

Arthur smiles and shakes his head. He's glad to move on to something less heavy even if it means he has to let go of the hope that more of his questions will be answered right now.

"I don't know, terrible-to-mediocre sex and blood all over my sheets? Sounds like a good night to me."

Eames laughs again, thankful for the lighter topic, and raises an eyebrow as he chews a mouthful of food. He knows Arthur still has questions, but hopefully they can just move on without ever having to deal with that.

"How do you feel about mediocre-to-good and hopefully no blood?"

Arthur raises his eyebrows thoughtfully and sits back in his chair. He's pretty much done with his meal now and he still thinks this might be a bad idea, but it also might be an incredibly good idea and he can't pass that up. He takes a deep breath as he contemplates it and finally says, "I think we need to put your optimism to the test."

There's a generally positive noise from Eames as he takes a last bite of his food and stands, bringing his plate over to the sink before he turns to walk toward Arthur's bedroom, undoing his belt as he goes.

"Well I'm already half naked, so you'd better catch up."

Arthur lets out a soft laugh, running a hand through his hair as he stands up to follow, and that's probably where we'll fade it to black.

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backdated so hard/for eames

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