"Catch me when I fall, you'll need me when I'm not here at all"

[perfectforgery]

Going Down in Flames
With: thesecurity
Verse: Trois
Rating: Likely R

Comments

[thesecurity]

"Perhaps you should have tried the other side of the bed."

A haze of steam slunk out of the bathroom with the opened door and Arthur tucked the towel tightly into itself at his hip as he looked at Eames. Just a look. Then he was disappearing back through the doorway to turn on the sink, picking up a towel to rub against the fogged mirror.

His reflection was tired, but it certainly could have been worse. He'd seen worse many a morning after spending a night in the company of Eames--for one reason or another, not all good or particularly worth wanting to remember. Some, he was sure, he simply couldn't recall due to copious amounts of alcohol.

Arthur shook his head and leaned back, picking up the shaving cream.

It was easier to think about his level of mild exhaustion and how it would effect his focus today than other, perhaps less obvious but no less prevalent, things. Like the lack of a female presence in the room.

[perfectforgery]

"Hm?" Eames hadn't been listening, a rare state of mind indeed. It spoke for how relaxed he was allowing himself to be, and it resonated. It was deeply terrifying. "That was almost witty, Arthur." He glanced back at Arthur, sitting on the bed, watching. He could--no-should have followed their normal routine. He should have gotten up, gone to take his own shower, discussed work, the weather, the city, the hotel service, anything but themselves, poured himself some coffee, gotten dressed and gone out the door. He even could have stayed and started on work, because the routine was still there.

He didn't.

Instead, he got up and walked over to the bathroom, leaning against the doorway instead of going in, waiting for the other man to finish shaving.

This wasn't a lack of impulse control. This was entirely controlled, entirely driven by his gut rather than his brain. He waited.

[thesecurity]

"Sometimes," he responded dryily, automatically, "I don't even have to try." The razor was run under the hot water after his hands and Arthur glanced at Eames in the mirror once before he began--and then again after a few pulls of blade down cheek when he realized that the other man wasn't moving. Wasn't getting in the shower, pissing, even grabbing more clothes or the paperwork stacked on the minibar of the suite. Eames wasn't doing anything but standing there and watching him shave.

Arthur didn't take the stillness as an invitation to turn and look at the man himself instead of the reflection. In fact he deliberately raised the razor and made another carefully vertical line in the slather spread across the lower face of his face. "Can I help you?"

[perfectforgery]

Can I help you? No, not really. That should have been the basis of a reply that would have churned in his brain before popping out in a far cheekier manner, all in under a second. It didn't though, he didn't get past his lips, he didn't let it. It had to be different.

"Not until you're done, no. Take your time,"