It's late, the streetlights buzzing and the lights in some of the flats long since turned out. From the sidewalk, Eames glances up at the dark windows he'd held some hope would be bright
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Arthur had attempted to go bed hours ago but it didn't take.
As clearly shown when Eames opened the door to the flat and the dim light over the sink in the kitchen was on, Arthur sitting in one of the chairs at the table, legs pulled up to where his knees were around his chest. He had gone ahead and made Eames' favorite tea, having been told he'd be back around tonight and since he was up anyway...
He knew his lover would probably be wanting a cup after that long drive.
The point man was resting a cheek on one knee, not really seeing that spot on the table, when he heard the key turn in the lock in the silence of the flat and turned his head towards the door. He didn't get up from the chair, finally feeling warm again from curling into himself like he was, but gave a soft, sincere greeting when he finally saw the other man: "Welcome home."
Two steps into the flat, Eames notices the light on in the kitchen, just enough light to see by but not nearly enough to see clearly. He shuts the door with care not to make too much noise, even though he can see when Arthur's moves- acknowledging his presence before he speaks. For once, the sound of the ice maker isn't whirring in the background, and Eames trudges into the kitchen.
"Hey," Eames says by way of greeting, neither the most eloquent or loquacious he's ever been, but he's not worried- at least not about that. The way Arthur scrunches himself up in his chairs is going to get him a pulled muscle one of these days-- whenever age decides to wake up and remember that it applies to Arthur and not just Eames.
Giving Arthur's shoulder an affectionate squeeze, Eames asks, "What're you doing up?"
Arthur can tell by the greeting alone how tired Eames is (and then how stiffly he's holding himself as he gets closer) and he puts his cheek back to a knee at the squeeze, voice still soft, "Couldn't sleep. I made you tea."
(And for the record: as long as Arthur kept up his exercises and body weight, he'd still retain his flexibility for a few more years. Granted, age will eventually catch up to him and his body will slow drastically but then he isn't sure how much longer he will actually live. A part of him is genuinely surprised he has lived to be as old as he is now.)
How he'd missed it on the way in, Eames doesn't know, but his mug is indeed out and the ripped but not yet discarded wrapper is sitting right beside it. The domesticity of it all is a little overwhelming considering he'd expected to come home to Arthur on the couch with his laptop propped up on his knees or some such. He reaches out to touch Arthur's hair as he goes to grab the mug. "That was sweet of you, thank you."
Eyeing the empty kitchen chair, Eames sips from his tea. Its lukewarm, but palatable. "You want to stay up, or give sleep another chance?"
Comments 52
As clearly shown when Eames opened the door to the flat and the dim light over the sink in the kitchen was on, Arthur sitting in one of the chairs at the table, legs pulled up to where his knees were around his chest. He had gone ahead and made Eames' favorite tea, having been told he'd be back around tonight and since he was up anyway...
He knew his lover would probably be wanting a cup after that long drive.
The point man was resting a cheek on one knee, not really seeing that spot on the table, when he heard the key turn in the lock in the silence of the flat and turned his head towards the door. He didn't get up from the chair, finally feeling warm again from curling into himself like he was, but gave a soft, sincere greeting when he finally saw the other man: "Welcome home."
Reply
"Hey," Eames says by way of greeting, neither the most eloquent or loquacious he's ever been, but he's not worried- at least not about that. The way Arthur scrunches himself up in his chairs is going to get him a pulled muscle one of these days-- whenever age decides to wake up and remember that it applies to Arthur and not just Eames.
Giving Arthur's shoulder an affectionate squeeze, Eames asks, "What're you doing up?"
Reply
(And for the record: as long as Arthur kept up his exercises and body weight, he'd still retain his flexibility for a few more years. Granted, age will eventually catch up to him and his body will slow drastically but then he isn't sure how much longer he will actually live. A part of him is genuinely surprised he has lived to be as old as he is now.)
Reply
Eyeing the empty kitchen chair, Eames sips from his tea. Its lukewarm, but palatable. "You want to stay up, or give sleep another chance?"
Reply
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