Drabble: Fault
Title: Fault
Author: osaki_nana_707
Pairings/Characters: ArthurxEames
Rating: PG
Word count: ~500
Warnings:a hint of language
Summary: Eames cleans Arthur's wound. Arthur blames Eames.
Fault
"This is… ack… all your fault… ow…"
"Shush," Eames reprimanded, albeit gently. He slowly undid the buttons on Arthur's waistcoat.
"If you weren't so foolhardy, guh-"
"Stop moving." Eames removed Arthur's tie and started undoing the buttons on his shirt.
Arthur huffed. "It's not that bad. You don't have to treat me like a child."
"You're right," Eames agreed, stripping Arthur of his shirt with a hiss from the point man, "it's only a bullet, after all."
Arthur's shirt had soaked up a good portion of the blood from his shoulder, but it was still a mess underneath the fabric. Eames set to cleaning the wound with a wet wash cloth, starting at the stray blood and moving closer to the actual injury. "You're pretty fortunate, actually. This could have hit you in the chest and killed you."
"I'm aware of what bullets do, Eames."
"You're quite snippy when you're hurt," Eames complained, but he had a trace of a smile on his mouth. "This is probably going to hurt."
"What- FUCK!"
Eames pressed the wet cloth onto the wound as he dropped the tongs and removed bullet onto the table. Arthur was grinding his teeth to keep from whimpering. "I warned you," Eames said. "The disinfectant will probably hurt too."
"A few more seconds of preparation would have been nice," Arthur tried to growl, but it came out breathless because of the pain.
"You've never actually been hit with a bullet outside of a dream, have you?" Eames asked.
"No. I haven't," Arthur said, letting out a slow breath. "It sucks."
Eames nodded.
"And it's all your fault."
"I didn't ask you to jump in front of me, darling."
Arthur did whimper when Eames started cleaning the wound with disinfectant but didn't deny Eames's statement. All he mumbled was, "it's still your fault."
"Enlighten me as to why that is, if you please," Eames said, pressing a strip of gauze over the wound and taping it down.
Arthur looked over his shoulder, wincing slightly because of the movement. "You really don't know?"
Eames stared back at him for a moment and then looked down while he closed up the first aid kit. "I… might have an inkling."
Arthur smirked halfheartedly and stood up. "We should get going before they find us."
Eames shrugged out of his jacket and placed it over Arthur's shoulders. "I suppose so. Don't go jumping in front of anymore bullets for me, all right?"
"I can't make any promises."
"Well, I can't either."
And Arthur kissed him.
Author: osaki_nana_707
Pairings/Characters: ArthurxEames
Rating: PG
Word count: ~500
Warnings:a hint of language
Summary: Eames cleans Arthur's wound. Arthur blames Eames.
Fault
"This is… ack… all your fault… ow…"
"Shush," Eames reprimanded, albeit gently. He slowly undid the buttons on Arthur's waistcoat.
"If you weren't so foolhardy, guh-"
"Stop moving." Eames removed Arthur's tie and started undoing the buttons on his shirt.
Arthur huffed. "It's not that bad. You don't have to treat me like a child."
"You're right," Eames agreed, stripping Arthur of his shirt with a hiss from the point man, "it's only a bullet, after all."
Arthur's shirt had soaked up a good portion of the blood from his shoulder, but it was still a mess underneath the fabric. Eames set to cleaning the wound with a wet wash cloth, starting at the stray blood and moving closer to the actual injury. "You're pretty fortunate, actually. This could have hit you in the chest and killed you."
"I'm aware of what bullets do, Eames."
"You're quite snippy when you're hurt," Eames complained, but he had a trace of a smile on his mouth. "This is probably going to hurt."
"What- FUCK!"
Eames pressed the wet cloth onto the wound as he dropped the tongs and removed bullet onto the table. Arthur was grinding his teeth to keep from whimpering. "I warned you," Eames said. "The disinfectant will probably hurt too."
"A few more seconds of preparation would have been nice," Arthur tried to growl, but it came out breathless because of the pain.
"You've never actually been hit with a bullet outside of a dream, have you?" Eames asked.
"No. I haven't," Arthur said, letting out a slow breath. "It sucks."
Eames nodded.
"And it's all your fault."
"I didn't ask you to jump in front of me, darling."
Arthur did whimper when Eames started cleaning the wound with disinfectant but didn't deny Eames's statement. All he mumbled was, "it's still your fault."
"Enlighten me as to why that is, if you please," Eames said, pressing a strip of gauze over the wound and taping it down.
Arthur looked over his shoulder, wincing slightly because of the movement. "You really don't know?"
Eames stared back at him for a moment and then looked down while he closed up the first aid kit. "I… might have an inkling."
Arthur smirked halfheartedly and stood up. "We should get going before they find us."
Eames shrugged out of his jacket and placed it over Arthur's shoulders. "I suppose so. Don't go jumping in front of anymore bullets for me, all right?"
"I can't make any promises."
"Well, I can't either."
And Arthur kissed him.