Disclaimer: As always I own nothing but the original characters and the situations all characters find themselves in. Everything else belongs to someone else and that's just the way it's gotta be. Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy.

Hold Onto That

Closing the bathroom door behind him Arthur leaned back against it hard, slowly letting himself slide down it until he was sitting on the floor, his tight face in his quivering hands. Though his shoulders shuddered with the effort Arthur kept himself under control, breathing slowly and deeply as he kept it together through stubborn will.

He was okay, Arthur repeated over and over again like a mantra, his fingers laced together now as if in prayer, his forehead pressed against them. His stupid, inconsiderate, smart ass gambler idiot was okay.

And he was going to make damn sure the sonofabitch paid for worrying him when this was over, Arthur thought darkly, preferring the anger to the fear. The debilitating, all consuming fear that had been choking the life out of him since he'd run into that alleyway to see Eames lying so still on the cracked and stained concrete, those two thugs standing over his with guns drawn and aimed. If Eames had been dead he would have…he didn't know but it would not have ended well for anyone, especially him.

Shaking his head, as though he could shake those thoughts from his head, Arthur once again had to focus on thoughts of his revenge to keep himself from quite possibly doing something stupid and embarrassing like crying.

As soon as the man was out of the hospital he was damn well doing to send the man right back into the hospital bed, Arthur decided, blaming the forger for his present predicament and immature behavior. Eames's damn military training wouldn't save him this time. Even if he had to take lessons and train for it, he was going to kick the shit out of the man for being so stupid.

For daring to nearly die on him.

For nearly dying before he'd ever have the guts to hit on him properly.

Leaning his head back, his eyes closed, it took Arthur longer than he would have liked to keep his dark emotions at bay. Grasping for a happy thought the point man concentrated on thinking about the way his stupid Englishman had looked at him in the other room minutes ago. Eames had never looked at him like that before. At least not outside of one of his dreams.

It was probably just the painkillers, Arthur thought sarcastically, even as his lips curved into a faint smile. The story of their relationship together. If you could even call what was between them a relationship. But that was fine with him, Arthur thought as he grasped the doorknob, using it to haul himself to his feet. Even if their reality had to be a relationship based on smart remarks and the occasional job together, at least they would have that.

Walking over to the bathroom sink Arthur turned the tap, wanting to splash some cold water on his face before he went back out again.

It was lowering to admit that he was a little bit tempted to hide out in the bathroom until Dom got back. Arthur knew his best friend would play interference for him, especially since their friendship was still smarting from the stunt his partner had pulled during their last venture together.

Drying his face Arthur took a deep breath, and then, just to be on the safe side, he pulled out his loaded die. Moving it around in his hand with his eyes closed Arthur took a deep breath, opened his eyes, and threw the totem onto the counter, watching it land as it had been designed to.

So at least the way Eames had looked at him earlier hadn't been a dream.

At least he could hold onto that.

)

Eames was in a haze, that state between being awake and being asleep, so that he was aware of what was going on around him while being apart from it as well. The doctors had been in to see him and the nurse had given him something that had him drifting off in spite of himself. He wanted to be awake and aware, Eames silently fumed at them, wanting to talk to Arthur more than he wanted to draw his next breath. Since he'd woken up the day before the other man hadn't reattached them to the dream machine which meant he had no way of communicating with the other man that didn't tire him out after a couple sentences. Plus Cobbs and Ariadne always seemed to be in the room whenever he thought he might have saved up enough strength to talk to the point man.

Resigned to the situation he was in Eames concentrated on again formulating what to say to Arthur when he was finally off the pain medication and was healthy enough to literally pin the man down if that was what it took for him to have a decent conversation with the man about the dream they had shared.

Why did Arthur only show his softer, sexier side when they were in dreams, Eames wondered bitterly, recalling how formal and aloof the younger man was towards him and everyone else in reality. The first time he'd met Arthur he'd dismissed the man as a straight arrow, so tight-laced and conservative he'd wondered at the time how the man could justify being in their kind of profession. That opinion had changed during that first heist together, Eames thought as he recalled the details in his mind like it were yesterday.

He'd been hired by Cobbs to impersonate the target's lover, to convince the man to give them access to the information they sought about the man's arms dealing in the Middle East. The job hadn't struck him as terribly interesting or worth his time, but he'd owed some people money and had seen it as a way to get his hands on the cash needed to keep those people off his back.

Things had gone smoothly at first, the setting a party at the man's estate. He'd played the man's boy toy to perfection, but the arm's dealer had had a roving eye that had settled on Arthur. So much to his shock he'd found himself told to mingle while their target headed for the point man, his interest and intent plain. Arthur had coolly shot the man down and walked away, and the arms dealer, after several shocked moments, had given chase. And he, of course, had followed after his target, Eames recalled, lost enough in the person he was impersonating to be jealous and pissed off. Cobbs had caught him before he could interfere, and they'd both listened into the conversation between the dealer and Arthur, Cobbs cool as a cucumber, and himself blown away as he'd watched Arthur morph before him into the sexy, sensual seducer he only way in dreams. He remembered it all perfectly, as if it were yesterday.

)

The conversation had taken place in the hallway near the library, Arthur pretending to study a painting as he waited for the signal that the dealer had successfully been lured into the library, where they figured the information they needed was being kept. The dealer had come up behind Arthur, trailing a suggestive finger down the man's back.

Turning around, Arthur had raised an eyebrow, the picture of sophisticated perfection in black tie. "You again. I thought I told you to go play with your boy toy. Boys like you don't interest me."

"Boys don't interest me either." The man had shot back smoothly, reaching out a hand to cup and than stroke Arthur's cheek. "And I think you and I need to get better acquainted."

"I'm not here for your amusement, and I'd imagine boys are the best you can do." Arthur had swatted the man's hand off his cheek like it was an annoying fly. "I have better things to do with my time than waste it talking to some rich little playboy whose daddy still gives him an allowance he can spend on fast cars and stupid boys." And now it was Arthur who reached out, dragging a finger down the other man's nose before flicking the end teasingly. "Shoo."

"For you information, young man, I happen to be the wealthiest, most influential person here. And my money did not come from my father. Perhaps you'd like a tour of my home, particularly the bedroom." And to emphasis his desire the dealer had placed his hands on Arthur's ass, squeezing suggestively.

Arthur had grabbed the man's wrists in a grasp tight enough to have the man moving his hands with a slightly pained expression. "I told you I'm not like one of your boys. I'm more a man than you could ever hope to be or handle. And you have yet to give me a good reason to want to handle you." And Arthur's voice took on a purring, sexy tone then that had had the dealer and Eames coming to attention in a very personal, hard way. "Why should I give you the privilege of being touched by me?"

"Because I can give you anything you might want." The dealer had offered, trying to crowd Arthur back against the wall, failing horribly.

Instead, Arthur had moved forward with an alpha presence that had had the dealer backing up instinctively. "Fine then, if this is really your place, prove it. That's the library behind you, right? There's always a safe in the library, you idiot playboys can never think of someplace more original to hide your sex tapes and porn. If you can open it I'll believe you really are the man of this house, who, from what I've heard, might be someone worth getting to know." With a hard yank Arthur had the man's tie in his hand, using it like a leash to the man's collar. "Unless you're afraid I might overpower you and take whatever's inside."

)

And just like that the dealer had been putty in Arthur's hands, Eames recalled, still lost in the vivid memory. As soon as the safe had been opened he'd charged in like the jealous lover he was supposed to be, picking a fight with the dealer while Arthur had calmly taken what they had needed. Then they'd both marched out of the room together after stating their disinterest in having anything to do with the shell shocked man. They'd gotten out clean and upon awaking Arthur had once again appeared to be the kind of man he had first assumed the point man to be, a proper gent through and through. Arthur had also been of the snobby opinion that he and Cobbs could have handled things without him.

And while that last part might have been true then, he'd known he'd been wrong about the point man, had seen a glimpse of the man Arthur could be when properly provoked, Eames thought with a sigh.

It was then he'd begun to crave those moments, wanting to bring out that sexy, sassy, dominating man in Arthur for his enjoyment alone.

And he'd had that for those two weeks, Eames thought as he struggled to open his eyes, suddenly craving even just a glimpse of the man he desired to hold and touch once more. Of Arthur. Even if it wasn't the version of Arthur he wanted, he needed to know that the man was at least still in the room with him.

Restraining hands pressing down on his shoulders lightly, Eames recognized them even before the man spoke.

"You know you aren't supposed to move. Your doctors made that clear."

Struggling to open his eyes fully Eames stared up into Arthur's face, the man's expression unreadable, but the man's hands were still touching him and that was enough for now. "Others?" He managed to get out, still too weak to move around much to see who else might be in the room with them.

"Ariadne is getting some sleep back at the hotel and Cobbs is outside talking to his kids on the phone. This is the first time he's been away from them since he came home. They're a little worried about history repeating itself."

"Kiss me then."

The younger man blinked, but didn't look surprised by the request either. "Why should I?"

"Last…request?"

"I fought too hard to keep you alive for you to cash out now." Was the point man's cool response to that idea, not about to be so easily swayed. "And you're a little old to believe that a kiss will make things all better, especially in your case."

"Please."

"Bastard."

"Never claimed…otherwise…Darling."

For several moments there was silence, and just when Eames was beginning to think the man meant to simply refuse to talk to him Arthur finally spoke in a low voice meant for the other man's ears only. "If I do will you promise to lie still and not waste what little strength you have now trying to talk to me?"

A weak nod was the best Eames could muster.

Leaning forward Arthur placed light, butterfly kisses on either side of Eames's lips before gently placing his lips solidly against the forger's, keeping the kiss as sweet and light as a first kiss was ought to be. And when he pulled away there was reluctance in Arthur's eyes that had Eames smiling a little, even as he tried to lift his head to prolong the contact.

"You promised not to move." Arthur reminded the man softly.

"You promise to stay?"

"I'm not going anywhere."

)

He was drifting again, aware of the sounds of the machines he was attached to and the turning of pages as Arthur read some thick volume that was no doubt very complex and thought provoking. No trashy paperbacks for his point man, Eames thought drowsily, letting himself ease into the sleep he needed to heal. Arthur had said he wouldn't leave and the man wouldn't lie to him about that, no question. But even as he relaxed completely he sensed three people coming into the room, tensing him up automatically, his heart rate picking up as he instinctively fought to regain full consciousness, even knowing that if the men meant him or Arthur harm he'd be absolutely useless.

Then Arthur's hand was stroking his head, silently communicating to him to relax. Eames took that to mean the other man knew the new arrivals, the thought confirmed when one of the men began to speak, the forger recognizing the voice of one of his surgeons.

"How's he doing?" The doctor asked.

"Better. He's aware of his surroundings as you've noticed. He knows who he is and who we are. The nurse who was in here a couple of hours ago indicated he seemed to be improving by the hour." Arthur told the doctor, Eames savoring the sound of the other man's voice since the point man had moved his hand away now.

"That's good." One of the other doctors informed the point man. "And given how much he's improved we'd like to take him into surgery to finish the work on his left leg. As we explained earlier we opted to leave that since the other wounds were more life threatening and we didn't want to keep him on the table longer than was necessary. His body has had time to rebound from the strain of the first surgery, and what we need to do is minimal, but necessary if his leg is to heal properly. He's recovering very fast and he strikes us as the type who will be out of here as soon as he has enough strength to walk."

Arthur nodded with a light chuckle before his face went serious again. "I've read his charts and talked to the nurses, they told me about the necessity of a second surgery and what it would entail."

The first doctor spoke again. "We've scheduled it for tomorrow morning at ten, provided he continued to show his present improvement."

"And we hope you will agree to do as you did in the first surgery." The third, previously unknown doctor said, a hint of eagerness in his young voice. "We'd like to hook you both up to some machines of our own, to study your brain activity during the surgery. We're very interested to see how your…dream connection…might be used to help patients deal with the mental strain of surgery."

Eames would have shaken his head in amusement at the idea if he'd had the strength.

"Yes, that was mentioned to me too." There was no hint of amusement in Arthur's voice as he gave the doctors his full attention. "And while I understand the benefits and your interest, it won't do you any good."

"And why is that?" The second doctor asked.

"Because what you three fail to understand is that dreams are Eames's and mine's business. It's what we know. We've spent countless hours that were like days in each other's dreams for training. And more, we know how to handle ourselves and each other in those dreams. Without that kind of groundwork even a loved one would be in danger of causing distress in a dream, especially with an unstable dream partner. I chose my dreamscape so that he would think it was his and my mind didn't reject his presence and additions to the dream because even my subconscious knows that he would never do me or my mind harm. Even if you had an architect to build a world for the patient and his or her loved one, there would be as much chance of the dream hindering the patient's recovery as helping it."

So it had been Arthur's dream, Eames mused in satisfaction, even as he mentally objected to being though of as unstable. Though that would have been true enough. Had it been a stranger in his dream, his mind would have automatically rebelled, his mind and body feeling additional stress which would have likely finished him off. But it had been Arthur, so he'd felt no need to pull up his defenses and had simply relaxed into the world they'd created between them. He'd never once thought the dream wasn't his while he was asleep, that was how good Arthur had crafted that beach for him.

What had happened between them had been as real as one could get in a dream.

If he got the chance, he was going to talk the doctors into hooking him and Arthur up during his leg surgery.

He and Arthur had a lot to talk about.