Inception Fic - A Little Pick-Me-Up (Arthur/Eames)
Title: A Little Pick-Me-Up
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 525
Summary: Written for this prompt on the kink meme. Basically, Arthur injures his knee and Eames carries him.
They haven’t even done anything too stressful that day, so Eames supposes that Arthur just isn’t looking where he’s going when he slips on the stairs. It isn’t a long flight, just five or six steps leading down from the street to the parking lot, and Arthur doesn’t land that badly. He probably has a bruised tailbone, but that’s all. So Eames doesn’t really get why Arthur’s curled up like that and muttering “Shit shit shit” under his breath.
“Are you all right?” Eames asks, jogging over. He’s seen Arthur take falls that are ten times worse, even in reality, so this reaction seems odd. “You didn’t break anything, did you?”
“No,” grinds out Arthur, who isn’t clutching his ankle, or his tailbone, or any other part that impacted the stairs. His hands are actually wrapped carefully around his left knee, thumbs digging into the sides of the joint. He hisses.
“What is it? Your knee?” Eames cocks his head to the side.
“It’s been bothering me all day,” Arthur admits. “It gave out as I was coming down.” He grimaces as he tries to flex his leg and stops before he even extends half-way. “I think I might have twisted it last night.” Last night when they had to leave the bar running, trying to escape from the Carabinieri.
“Oh,” says Eames. “Think you can walk just a little further, darling? If you can make it to the car, then we can go find a clinic or something.” He holds out his hands, which Arthur reluctantly takes, and pulls the man to his feet.
“Oh God,” says Arthur, and it becomes obvious in the first few seconds that his leg will not support his weight. Eames catches him before he falls, placing steadying hands on Arthur’s shoulders.
“All right. I guess I’ll have to carry you,” Eames says, smiling at the look on Arthur’s face. “What, sweetheart? I’m not going to let you hop one-legged all the way across the lot. Probably make the pain worse, and all that. So, which will it be? Piggyback? Fireman’s carry?” He pauses for effect. “Bridal style?”
“Hell no,” says Arthur. “Turn around.” With a bit of wriggling that Eames, decent for once, doesn’t comment on, he gets his arms around the forger’s neck, his legs around his waist. Eames tucks his hands under Arthur’s thighs for support.
“All right, love?”
“Just walk, Eames,” sighs Arthur. He clings grimly to Eames’s shirt as the man starts forward, his knee breaking into a fit of throbbing that leaves him breathless.
“How ‘bout I run you a hot bath back at the hotel?” Eames suggests when they’re halfway to the car and Arthur’s little huffs of pain have become audible. “Would that help?”
“Probably,” says Arthur. They reach the sleek little sports car Eames is renting for the week and he struggles down and into the passenger seat.
Much later, it turns out that a hot bath does help quite a lot. So does Eames’s massage. And the naked cuddling. In any case, Arthur goes to sleep without pain.
He waits until Eames is snoring softly to whisper “thank you.”
---
Enjoy! Comments and crits appreciated.
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 525
Summary: Written for this prompt on the kink meme. Basically, Arthur injures his knee and Eames carries him.
They haven’t even done anything too stressful that day, so Eames supposes that Arthur just isn’t looking where he’s going when he slips on the stairs. It isn’t a long flight, just five or six steps leading down from the street to the parking lot, and Arthur doesn’t land that badly. He probably has a bruised tailbone, but that’s all. So Eames doesn’t really get why Arthur’s curled up like that and muttering “Shit shit shit” under his breath.
“Are you all right?” Eames asks, jogging over. He’s seen Arthur take falls that are ten times worse, even in reality, so this reaction seems odd. “You didn’t break anything, did you?”
“No,” grinds out Arthur, who isn’t clutching his ankle, or his tailbone, or any other part that impacted the stairs. His hands are actually wrapped carefully around his left knee, thumbs digging into the sides of the joint. He hisses.
“What is it? Your knee?” Eames cocks his head to the side.
“It’s been bothering me all day,” Arthur admits. “It gave out as I was coming down.” He grimaces as he tries to flex his leg and stops before he even extends half-way. “I think I might have twisted it last night.” Last night when they had to leave the bar running, trying to escape from the Carabinieri.
“Oh,” says Eames. “Think you can walk just a little further, darling? If you can make it to the car, then we can go find a clinic or something.” He holds out his hands, which Arthur reluctantly takes, and pulls the man to his feet.
“Oh God,” says Arthur, and it becomes obvious in the first few seconds that his leg will not support his weight. Eames catches him before he falls, placing steadying hands on Arthur’s shoulders.
“All right. I guess I’ll have to carry you,” Eames says, smiling at the look on Arthur’s face. “What, sweetheart? I’m not going to let you hop one-legged all the way across the lot. Probably make the pain worse, and all that. So, which will it be? Piggyback? Fireman’s carry?” He pauses for effect. “Bridal style?”
“Hell no,” says Arthur. “Turn around.” With a bit of wriggling that Eames, decent for once, doesn’t comment on, he gets his arms around the forger’s neck, his legs around his waist. Eames tucks his hands under Arthur’s thighs for support.
“All right, love?”
“Just walk, Eames,” sighs Arthur. He clings grimly to Eames’s shirt as the man starts forward, his knee breaking into a fit of throbbing that leaves him breathless.
“How ‘bout I run you a hot bath back at the hotel?” Eames suggests when they’re halfway to the car and Arthur’s little huffs of pain have become audible. “Would that help?”
“Probably,” says Arthur. They reach the sleek little sports car Eames is renting for the week and he struggles down and into the passenger seat.
Much later, it turns out that a hot bath does help quite a lot. So does Eames’s massage. And the naked cuddling. In any case, Arthur goes to sleep without pain.
He waits until Eames is snoring softly to whisper “thank you.”
---
Enjoy! Comments and crits appreciated.