undergrounds | [open] FAE HUNT

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[open] FAE HUNT

17TH // BROMLEY

The reports come his way in the morning. Losing fae to the vampires is... Unfortunate, but not unexpected. Not with Harris in charge. This is different however, and an urgent call has him making his way down to one of the community centres long before he'd think about leaving the house under usual terms.

Having a couple of fae tell you all about the night they had, being caught by vampires, watching another die, one with bites on their neck, etc. etc. It puts a real damper on your day. At first, he chalks it up to general vampire cruelty and plans to phone in a bounty to Hillingdon, but they just keep coming. Fae with burns from iron cuffs, missing fae, dead. It's like something just happened overnight.

He can be found more than once over the course of the evening, having a hushed conversation in the corner of a bar that looks like it could easily come to blows if not for the way Eames excuses himself abruptly and none too friendly.

Maybe you're curious, maybe he bumps you as he leaves looking fully like he intends to kill someone. Or maybe you just have a weak spot for men with clenched jaws nursing drinks alone at the bar. Either way, he's about.

18TH ONWARDS

It takes a couple days, and even then it's slow to start, but sure enough security starts tightening up around the two Fae boroughs. Anyone with a particularly keen eye for patterns and a lot of free time will notice the patrols and any vampire who enters the area might notice how it feels like they're being followed. Not just watched, like they usually would be.

A week in, it wouldn't be entirely incorrect to assume every other fae is carrying a stake, but that's not the only change in faeville. Eames is powerfully unhappy with this, and he's really not too pleased to speak to anyone who isn't a fae. He doesn't think the handful of vampires he's friendly with are involved, but he doesn't care to see them, and in his estimation humans are a bunch of useless hypocrites. Any conversations are strictly business.

Despite the danger, he's totally unafraid to wander into vampire territory, (though by the 25th he's constantly flanked by a burly looking pair at the behest of another Lord,) and some might say he's actively looking for a fight. There's more than a few scuffles if one fancied joining the fray. Vampires he sees getting a little too close to a fae, or maybe they try to round on him instead.

It wouldn't be silly to assume he's looking out for his people, but really he's just looking to vent some of his frustrations at the source.

29TH/30TH

There may be plans to deal with Harris, but that doesn't put Eames any more at ease in the interim. They're being hunted by vampires, and they're increasingly at danger of the whims of witches as Samhain approaches. It's not exactly a great time to be a fae in London.

He's not been in the mood for sex (shocking, isn't it,) drinking is at a minimum, and he can't exactly fight his way across the city just because he's in a shitty mood. Much as he'd love to. Doesn't leave many outlets to keep his mood even, but there's always a spot of fun to be had with a game of cards.

They're not as numerous as they used to be, (ah, the good old days,) but there's still plenty of back room gambling dens around London if you know where to look. And maybe it's a little unfair to hang out in the ones not frequented by magical types, but on the other hand Eames doesn't give a fuck. He needs to unwind a little, relax himself before the big night that hopefully won't be a huge fucking disaster. If that means clearing a bunch of mortals out, then so be it.

Go ahead, confront him about it. He'd love the fight.

ETC;

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"I'm familiar with the concept of anger," Arthur replies, a little wryly. Maybe that was too much sarcasm, so he reels it back in quickly, barely giving himself time for another drink.

"Listen, unless you're going to wreck your stuff and me in the process, it's fine. I told you, being good company isn't the point."

Well Eames snorts at the comment regardless, a little amused. They argue enough and Arthur's seen him mad enougg that he probably has a fairly good idea what he's dealing with.

His jaw tightens in the next moment though, working it like it takes an actual physical effort at make himself speak, and frowns at the bottle in his hand.

"Thanks," he lingers on it a moment, like he has more to say, but nope. That's it.

"Yeah," Arthur says softly, feeling like this is not the time to say something like 'you're welcome.' He keeps his sober gaze on Eames for a moment and then takes another sip from his beer. He's just going to wait this one out, until Eames either tells him to go or seems to be in better spirits.

It's not that he's scared for Eames - he's sure the man has seen a lot of terrible and endlessly frustrating things in his lifetime and he's managed to make it this far - but he does know how hard it is to go through that alone and he knows how hard it is to think straight in those situations. There's a lot of pressure on Eames to think straight right now. It must be almost suffocating. So Arthur's gonna stay and try and take some of that edge off, because they're friends, and because Eames opened up to him. He feels like that's important.

It's pretty much exactly what Eames said it would be going forward, silent drinking with the odd bit of idle chatter to break things up. He's not feeling especially conversational tonight.

At some point Eames switches to the fae wine, though for the sake of his health Arthur's only allowed the human booze, which eases him up a bit when the sobriety finally starts to slip away. Talking more about nothing important until eventually falling asleep, ending up awkwardly positioned on the couch with his head on Arthur's chest, one foot up on the coffee table, and an empty glass cradled next to him.

It's not comfortable in the least but Eames is too asleep to care.

Arthur drinks consistently enough that he eventually just drifts off, almost skipping full drunkenness all together, barely even registering Eames' head on his chest but ending up with an arm draped around his shoulders anyway. He won't have the worst hangover in the world, but his neck will be rebelling in the morning that's for sure.

Speaking of morning, it's quickly approaching and Arthur might be starting to stir.

All that gets is a noise of complaint from Eames because his pillow is moving and he didn't agree to that. He's usually pretty easy to rouse, but right now he's stubbornly refusing to be even a little bit awake.

Arthur groans softly and looks down at Eames' head, confused for a moment about where he is and what he's doing. He shakes Eames' shoulder very gently because he definitely needs to get up and move, and then he says, "hey."

Ugh, okay. Eames turns his face, pressing it into Arthur's chest for a moment before he realises his pillow is a person and sits up slowly, with another noise of complaint because this is all horrible and he wants to go back to sleep.

Arthur leans forward and rubs his face with a heavy sigh, feeling the ache in his back and shoulders and regretting the last few drinks he had. He's not even going to address the fact that Eames fell asleep on him, willing to chalk that up entirely to the alcohol and never speak of it again.

Anyway with great effort he gets up off the couch and stretches, wincing at the kink in his neck, and then he remembers why he ever wakes up in the first place.

"Coffee."

Eames would laugh if he wasn't groggy as hell and stiff from falling asleep the way he did. He stands with a grunt of effort, resigning himself to the fact that he's probably going back to sleep in a few hours anyway as he pads out the the kitchen to put some coffee on. Going to the cupboard on autopilot to get some dog food out before he remembers Boxer isn't here, and he settles for sighing and leaning against the counter instead.

Arthur is meanwhile figuring out Eames' coffee maker with a little more difficulty than he would usually have. It's generally straightforward, as most coffee makers are, and eventually starts to brew and the sweet smell of coffee starts to fill the air.

Oh, coffee.

Ugh, but his neck. He rubs it, like he's trying to get the kink out, and mumbles some curse about how much it hurts.

He's going to be complaining all morning, isn't he. Eames sighs and gives Arthura considering look for a moment before he gestures to the table with a grunt that vaguely sounds like "sit down."

Arthur looks down at the coffee maker and determines it won't be done for another minute or so, and then he sighs and sits down. He assumes Eames is just being a half-decent host.

Well that's a ridiculous assumption on Arthur's part, when has Eames ever played host for him? Never.

Eames stretches his arms oùt over his head as he follows Arthur over to the seat, standing behind him and sighing. He trails the pads of his fingers up the side of Arthur's neck, trying to feel where the skin is warmest without actually hurting him.

"Here?" He asks softly.

Arthur glances back at him hesitantly but just looks ahead when he realizes what's happening. When Eames' fingers find that spot he winces.

"Yeah, that's it."

Eames makes a gentle noise in understanding and gently nudges Arthur's head forward as he starts working on Arthur's neck. Massaging softly at the base of his neck to start with, careful not to actually put any pressure where the worst of it is.

Arthur lets out a soft groan, the way one does when they're getting a much needed massage, and his eyes fall closed. The smell of coffee is getting stronger as it keeps brewing and Eames' hands are like magic on his aching muscles. This is basically the perfect morning, except for the light hangover and the overall fact that he did not wake up in a bed.

Eames keeps at it, slowly working up Arthur's neck to the base of his head and back down to his shoulders and upper back. He's always enjoyed this, something about giving a massage that's calming in its own right, focusing on loosening someone up and making them feel good with just his hands. Honestly the only reason he doesn't do it more often is then people get expectations.

Arthur doesn't do much other than fully relax over the course of a few minutes. He makes a few more of those pleased sounds, especially when Eames finds some of those knots in his neck and back. He's more tense than he thought, both from the night on the couch and at least ten years leading up to it.

Yeah, that is a lot more than he's prepared to deal with right now. Eames just focuses on Arthur's neck to loosen the muscle enough to soothe the worst of the pain. He combs his fingers up through the back of Arthur's hair and pats his shoulder.

"Better?"

Arthur smooths down the hair that Eames messed up and turns to smile up at him. "Yeah," he says sleepily. He stands up and pats Eames' chest affectionately on his way past him to the coffee. He has his priorities in order.

Eames follows, getting his own coffee after Arthur's got his and turns to lean on the counter with a small sigh, already feeling more awake without the caffeine.

"Your back's a mess, you know." It's a bit teasing, but there's also an odd kind of joy to the way he says it, like looking at a puzzle you're about to fucking demolish.

Arthur leans his hip on the counter next to Eames, turned towards him as he holds his mug close. He laughs gently at the comment about his back, taking a sip of coffee.

"I know," he says. "I guess I don't take care of myself."

Eames shakes his head in mock-admonishment, "I'll have to take a look at it for you."

It's a little bit flirtatious, but mostly knowing that mess of knots is there is gonna bug him for at least ten minutes. You know, when he forgets about it entirely.

"I think I'd like that."

It's a bit flirtatious in return, but mostly it's earnest. His neck feels so good now and it's a stark contrast to the rest of him. He's still tired and groggy enough not to feel self-conscious about wanting to get a bit closer to Eames, although he doesn't move right away. Coffee first.

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