Day Six

Eames

He was startled out of sleep by the sound of a door slamming. He blinked his eyes opened and realized that he was alone in the bed although the mattress and blankets in front of him were still warm from Arthur's body. For a moment fear gripped him and he wondered if his mark and stormed out of the hotel room. But then he relaxed as he heard the toilet flush. He closed his eyes but grew concerned when the other man did not reappear right away. Instead he heard Arthur eventually venture out of the washroom and brush his teeth. "You alright, darling?" he asked his pillows when he heard padded footsteps.

"Of course, I'm fine," he heard the man's quick response as the mattress dipped by his feet. "What are we doing today?"

"Sausalito and the Muir Wood redwoods," he stated, slipping out of bed. He was a little confused as to why Arthur had not slipped back into bed with him so he sat down beside the man. He wrapped an arm around Arthur's waist loosely, holding him close as he woke up. But he grew more apprehensive when his mark remained perfectly still in his arms, the man as stiff as a ramrod. "We can grab a quick breakfast before catching the nine am ferry."

"You pick where you want to go for breakfast," Arthur spoke, voice sounding strained.

He began rubbing smooth circles on Arthur's back, trying to relax the man in his arms. He was beginning to think that his mark was not as 'fine' as he proclaimed. "Are you sure you're alright, love?"

"Yes," Arthur snapped, "I just want to get going."

If he had not thought something was wrong before, he was positive something was off now. He tried to not show his anxiety and concern as he continued rubbing that back soothingly. He watched as those dark eyes fluttered closed but the man's body still remained stiff and uninviting. He eventually stopped when he realized he was having no effect, "Alright. I'll just get changed and we'll get going."

He considered for the briefest moment the idea of kissing Arthur then and there, but the memory of his dream stopped him. He knew it had been a projection, but what if Arthur felt the same way and did not want to bring kissing into the equation? Kissing certainly would complicate matters, especially considering the fact that he knew he would never want to stop once he started.

Instead, he stood up and dropped a quick kiss to Arthur's forehead, drawing away when the man flinched at the touch. He began fretting about what could be wrong and wondered briefly if pressing the matter would work. But he decided against it and grabbed his key card to go get dressed. There was no point screwing things up more than he had apparently already done.

Once he was back in his own room he took a moment to throw his key card on the dresser and swear quietly. What had he done? Had Arthur thought about the choice for them to mutually split again and decided that he didn't want to spend any more time with Eames now that they had an expiration date? Last night had Arthur agreed to split just because he had made the decision first? Did Arthur hate him now?

His mind ran with distressing thoughts as he got dressed for the day, wondering if Arthur would even agree to continue sightseeing with him. Maybe they would have breakfast and then his mark would just cut things off right there. His stomach clenched painfully at the thought and he was suddenly a lot less interested in food.

As he finished getting dressed and headed back to Arthur's room, he hoped that he had just misread the man. Maybe he was always a little distant and irritable when he first woke up; it was not like Eames had woken up beside him before. That thought brought a little burst of happiness at the memory of falling asleep with Arthur pressed up against him, in his arms. Feeling invigorated, he knocked on the door and waited for his mark to arrive. When Arthur did step out of his room, Eames felt one eyebrow rise at the fact that Arthur had not slicked back his hair and had chosen very comfortable attire. He chose not to comment though as they headed into the elevator, "I figured it would be nice to go to that bistro one last time," he suggested hesitantly.

"Okay," Arthur replied shortly, pulling his sunglasses on before they stepped out of the elevator and across the street.

When they walked into the bistro, Arthur in the lead, his mark suddenly stopped mid-step and Eames nearly stumbled into him. He heard Arthur take a deep breath before walking towards their usual booth, sitting down purposefully. He watched the man's stiff movements - everything looking forced - and he noticed the man's face. Those eyes looked dull and that skin looked paler than usual, "I hate to sound like a broken record, pet. But are you sure you're alright? You look a little pale..."

"I'm fine!" Arthur yelled, a few other customers glancing over at their table in surprise before returning to their conversations. He pulled away as if he had been slapped; he had only been trying to help. It felt as if every barrier he had slowly been tearing away this week had suddenly reappeared, stronger than ever. "I'm just not very hungry," his mark added quietly.

"We can go back to the hotel-" he tried to suggest, looking for any chance to return to Arthur's good graces.

"Just eat your breakfast," Arthur slumped down in his booth, clearly agitated. But his next word sounded a little calmer, as if he realized he was being distant and snappish, "Please."

He fell silent as they both glanced over their menus, feeling lost but trying to not show it. This was their last day to spend together and somehow he had angered or offended Arthur. He wanted to fix it but he had no clue what the underlying issue was. He saw his mark flinch when the waitress came over to order and he paid close attention to Arthur's mannerisms to try to understand what was going on.

Arthur had not ordered much food, nor was it his regular choices. He saw the man lean on one hand and close his eyes, looking exhausted. Had his mark not slept well? Maybe he was tired. But that did not seem to cover it because the man's eyebrows were furrowed in what looked like pain and Arthur's jaw was clenched in what looked like determination. There was clearly something else hidden beneath Arthur's attitude, but he did not know what it was.

He tried to start a few conversations to try and diagnose the issue but his companion was uncooperative, merely grunted occasionally to prove he was listening. Eventually Eames was forced to give up and eat in silence as their food arrived. He ate as quickly as he could manage, knowing at the very least that Arthur was not enjoying their time in the bistro. He watched the other man out of the corner if his eye, noting that Arthur barely managed the toast, let alone the fruit.

Finally he was finished and they left the bistro quickly. The sidewalks were relatively crowded as they made their way towards the main ferry building. Unexpectedly he felt fingers brush against his own, a warm hand slipping into the grasp of his own. He looked down in astonishment as he saw Arthur's hand cradled in his own, swinging between them slightly as they continued walking.

He knew something was still bothering Arthur, but he realized that this meant it was not something that Eames had done. The very fact that Arthur was showing affection in public this obviously was earth-shattering. He felt a relieved grin take over his face as he squeezed those fingers affectionately with his own. He still wanted to know what was wrong with Arthur, wanting to help, but he felt as if a huge weight had been taken off his mind now that he knew Arthur's feelings had not changed for him during the night.

Eames was even more pleased when Arthur continued holding his hand all the way to the ticket booth and onto the ferry, having expected the man to pull his hand away after a short gesture. "Let's get a good view so we can see the city as we pull out," he suggested as they headed up to the second story of the boat where more rows of seats could be found.

He figured that the canopy over their seats would block the majority of the wind and, at first, it seemed to do just that. But then as they pulled further from the shore and out into the open water, the wind began to billow around them, hitting them at every angle. He saw Arthur pull his hood up and duck his head away from the wind but figured he was just a little chilled. Except a few seconds later Arthur turned and buried his head against Eames's chest to hide from the wind.

He would have thought it was a nice position except for the fact that his mark's body was tense and trembling in his grasp as he brought his arms around the man to keep him warm. "Eames, can we move inside?" When he heard Arthur yell above the wind and flinch at the noise he immediately stood up, with Arthur still in his arms, and began leading him down the stairs.

His concern doubled when Arthur took his offered hand as a lead down the stairs and into the ferry's main cabin. Public affection was one thing, but showing weakness and a need for assistance in front of strangers, let alone Eames? He never thought he'd see the day. There had to be something seriously wrong. There were no two seats available together so he sat Arthur down on the nearest one he could find, leaning against the wall beside him. "It's a thirty minute ride..." Arthur began, sounding guilty.

"Hush," he cut the man's protests off immediately, watching Arthur's face. He couldn't see those expressive brown eyes beneath the reflective lenses of the sunglasses, but he could definitely read the telltale signs of discomfort and pain in the man's face and body. He wondered quickly if Arthur was having another headache, posture similar to that of the first night he had infiltrated his mark's room.

He was pretty sure Arthur had closed his eyes at Eames's word, allowing his head to droop a bit. Wanting to help in any way he could, he began running his fingers through that soft hair. He saw Arthur tense up under the touch at first, making Eames more sure of his conclusion that the man had a headache. But as he carefully began brushing through those soft strands of hair he watched his mark's shoulders relax, body going lax. It was a thirty minute ride, as Arthur had earlier protested, and he eventually felt his arm begin to burn with tiredness as he kept it aloft and moving. He found himself unwilling to cease his actions though, pleased that he had found some small way of helping Arthur through...whatever this was.

As the ferry pulled up against the Sausalito pier, Arthur stood up and he took that soft hand in his own once again, thrilled that he was not rejected from the public display. His mark trailed along behind him as they exited the ferry, navigating through the swarm of other tourists. "I was originally thinking we could spend some time walking around Sausalito, but now I think it would be better to catch the bus up to the redwoods directly," he mentioned as they split off from the horde of people.

"We can do whatever you want to do. I told you that I'm fine," Arthur pressed, voice a little calmer even though he still sounded insistent.

He knew Arthur would not take kindly to his suggestion if he knew it was out of concern for his mark, so he decided a little white lie would not hurt the situation. "I didn't suggest this because I thought you weren't. But Sausalito is mainly for food and shopping, and I'm not really in the mood for either right now. So are redwoods alright with you?"

"Yeah," Arthur nodded slightly, just as Eames was hoping he would. He had learned enough about his mark in this one week to know that Arthur needed to feel in charge. But he had also learned that Arthur would make sure Eames was not entirely opposed to an idea before he would agree. It was a finicky balance, but he appreciated those particular habits that his mark possessed.

He had already searched up the information on how to get to the Muir Woods National Park, so they bought their ticket and were able to immediately board the direct coach to the redwoods. They found two seats together and he sat down by the window since Arthur immediately excused himself to the tiny bathroom at the back of the bus. The coach was a little under half full with other people that had just gotten off the ferry, but it was peacefully quiet as everyone maintained hushed conversations while they watched the passing scenery.

He continued watching the scenery, enjoying the view of the small towns built all the way up the steep inclines of the hills around the highway. Arthur returned quickly and sat down beside him, watching through the window as well. The bus had a few stops along the way, the bus slowly filling up around them, and eventually he felt Arthur lean against him and rest his head on his shoulder. The man's full weight was against him, making him think that Arthur must be exhausted; it felt as if Arthur was going to fall unconscious at any moment.

He felt a wave of concerned fondness fill him for Arthur as the man willingly showed his weakness in order to draw comfort from him – trusting Eames to help when he needed it. He raised his right arm, the one that was not trapped under Arthur's weight, and cupped the far side of Arthur's face, unwilling to shift his weight and jostle the man. He skimmed his thumb along the soft skin of the man's cheek and felt a warm glow when Arthur leaned into the touch; it made him feel that despite their poor morning, the day was still salvageable.

Arthur pulled away after a long period of time in that position and they began watching the passing scenery again. "Bloody hell," he whispered nervously as he looked out the window to be met with the view of a sharp drop-off along the edge of the twisting road; why was a bus this large weaving along a road like this at such a quick pace? This was more terrifying than a roller coaster because they were not attached to a track; if the bus tipped over it was gone.

They did make it to the bottom of the hill in the end; but when he glanced over at Arthur, considering whether or not he should kiss the man out of gratitude that they had both survived, Arthur looked just as pale as he probably was. They were both silent for a few moments as the bus continued on and a line of cars began to appear on both sides of the road, nearly tipping over into the ravines. "I guess we made a good choice to get someone else to drive us here."

"No kidding," he agreed, snorting at the ridiculousness of the parking here. If he had to park that far away from his goal he would probably just turn around and go home. He was grateful when they finally made it to the actual parking lot, feeling a little cramped and wanting to get some fresh air. They exited the coach along with the other tourists and snagged a trail map before disappearing into the forest of redwoods. But before they even passed the welcome sign they tried to decide what trail to take depending on ferry times. "The ferries are relatively spread out so our options from Sausalito to San Francisco are noon, which is pointless, three thirty, or five forty five. I was thinking the three thirty might be good so we can relax before we go dancing."

"Sounds good," Arthur replied quickly. He noted that the man sounded less than enthusiastic about the idea of dancing and wondered if Arthur was still against the idea. He knew that his mark would go dancing no matter what because Eames had fulfilled his part of the bargain, but he was not all that interested in forcing Arthur into doing something he didn't want to do.

He decided to leave that discussion for later though, when they were back at the hotel so they could enjoy the national park while they were there. "Alright, so we'll have to be back here for the two thirty bus. Or two o'clock if we want to grab some food beforehand..." he began tilting the map back and forth, trying to match up North.

"Eames, map skills will never be your strong point," Arthur chided him as the map was yanked from his hands.

"I could surprise you, darling," he crossed his arms defiantly, smirking even though Arthur's statement was entirely true.

"Yes, well I don't want to be surprised by finding myself in a different state so I think I'll be in control of the map," his mark ignored him to orient the map and then begin studying the different trails.

"Whatever you say, oh Great One," he gave a courteous bow, sarcasm dripping from his words. Arthur seemed to be doing much better than when they had woken up this morning, but he was still remaining rather passive about everything. He was hoping that a little joking might cheer him up and he was right; as they began walking into the park he saw Arthur's mouth twitch upwards into a smile. He quickly stepped in front of his mark's intended path and grinned, "Now there's the smile I love." He did not feel embarrassed to show how much he had missed that smile.

He was even more pleased with his decision to admit this fact because Arthur stopped in his tracks and his smile began to grow. Arthur stepped closer to him, smile still in place, and planted a quick kiss on the edge of his lips. Eames felt his lips tingle in anticipation as he wound an arm around that narrow waist to pull his mark closer. Was this a sign from Arthur that he was willing to bring kissing into their relationship despite the complications? He eagerly turned his head, trying to catch those lips in a full kiss, but he felt Arthur pull away teasingly, "Come on. I'd like to actually see some redwoods while we're here."

He released his hold reluctantly, but was not disappointed. He saw the playful smirk on those lips, knowing that Arthur was just being difficult. He was beginning to think that Arthur really wasn't against the idea of kissing – though he was still planning on allowing his mark to make the first move to be safe. "Very well, my love," he maintained his sarcastic but chipper voice, "Lead on!"

They chose a longer trail through the redwoods, weaving their way around different types of scenery. The air was damp in the shade but it smelt wonderfully refreshing with all of the vegetation around them. At one point he veered off to the side of the path where a redwood was encroaching on the designated pathway. He spread his arms wide and hugged the base of the tree; his reach did not even making it a quarter of the way. He called Arthur over to hug the tree beside him and even with their fingertips touching they still didn't make it a quarter of the way around the tree. It was incredible.

They were near the end of one end of their trail when Arthur pulled him over to a bench and sat them down, demanding silence. Curious, he watched as Arthur closed his eyes and began breathing deeply. While the man was occupied with whatever he was doing, Eames took the opportunity to slide his gaze over that form to memorize everything. He had been studying this man for nearly a week and he was quite confident that he could recreate his persona if asked. Now, he was studying the man for personal reasons; if he was going to have to say goodbye to this man tomorrow, he wanted every memory to be crystal clear.

He saw that dark hair ruffled by the wind from the ferry and his own fingers running through them soothingly; he smiled lightly when he realized that Arthur had never bothered to fix it after that. He watched eyelids twitch as his mark kept his eyes closed and nostrils flare as the man took in the smells of the national park. Those shoulders were relaxed and his hands rested calmly in his lap. He could also smell his mark, the refreshing smell of the forest mixing with the hotel's shampoo splendidly. Arthur looked utterly at peace in that moment, surrounded by centuries-old trees, and he looked gorgeous in the small beam of sunlight that was lighting up their clearing beside them.

Eames noticed Arthur turning towards him slightly, eyes still closed, so he turned his attention forward and dropped his eyes closed. He felt the back of his neck tingle as those searching brown eyes came to rest on him. After so many years of studying and watching people, he had a very keen sense of when someone was watching him in return. He allowed the gaze for a few moments and then asked smugly, "Like what you see?"

"What?" Arthur's voice sounded startled, guilty.

"You're staring at me," he stated calmly, keeping his eyes firmly closed.

"I am not," he could hear the nervous defiance of someone trying to talk their way out of getting caught in the act.

"Yes you are, I can tell," he felt smug, hearing the busy silence of a living forest as Arthur apparently struggled for some retort. He decided to save the man the humiliation and blinked his eyes open, sending him a wink, "It's alright. I was staring at you for a while earlier."

Arthur scoffed haughtily and stood from the bench, "I wasn't staring."

He, of course, continued arguing the point as he tried to force Arthur into admitting he had been staring at Eames. Even though he knew it was a dangerous cycle to start, both of them far too stubborn to break down, it was enjoyable to argue good-naturedly back and forth as they began down the trail towards the entrance of the park. He was one step behind his mark when they walked into a large patch of sunlight.

Arthur had been mid-sentence when his voice suddenly cut off. He nearly stumbled into his mark's back as the man stopped and stood still, bringing his hands to hold his head as if trying to block out a loud noise. "Arthur?" he asked hesitantly, feeling a strange flash of dread pass through him. This dread turned to absolute panic when Arthur did not answer him and instead began to topple backwards.

He managed to catch Arthur in his arms – barely – because he had been standing so close to him and he awkwardly managed to work them both to the ground. Arthur was dead weight in his arms, completely unconscious, and he felt his heart rate begin to pick up. "Arthur? Can you hear me? Oh god, please be okay..." he began muttering, half to himself and half to his unconscious mark. He crossed his legs quickly and carefully rested Arthur's head in his lap while his body lay along the path; he felt sick with panic as the man's head lolled to one side loosely at the movement, cheek resting against his jeans.

Eames had known there was something wrong, ever since he had first woken up. He did not know exactly what it was that was wrong, but he had known that something was bothering Arthur. So why had he not asked? Why had ne not done something to help? He had been so relieved to realize that it was not something he himself had done that he had not pressed the matter, hoping and assuming that things would get better. And now there was something seriously wrong.

He felt guilt eat at him, wondering if he could have kept this from happening if he had pressed the matter or insisted they stay at the hotel. He felt a lump in his throat and his eyes begin to burn as he begged Arthur to wake up, close to tears. He was overwhelmed by a sense of helplessness, knowing they were at least twenty minutes away from any sort of help. What if Arthur needed to get to a hospital? What if Arthur died? Eames knew he was becoming a little irrational but he was plagued by the idea of Arthur not being okay. That thought physically hurt him, made him feel ill, and he wondered how long it would take him after they were forced to split for him to not feel a clench in his heart over Arthur's wellbeing. How could he leave this man?

He was still pleading for Arthur to wake up, to talk, as he ran his fingers through that soft hair. He hoped that maybe the soothing action would help his mark once again. Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, Arthur shifted his head an inch, "'m okay..."

"Okay? Okay? You are not okay! You just fainted!" he retorted immediately, his agitation over Arthur's inability to understand the seriousness of the situation wiped out by his shaky relief. "Worried me halfway to hell..." he admitted quietly, still pulling his fingers through that hair. He couldn't really see Arthur's eyes through the reflective lenses but he knew his mark was staring up at him with his head tilted the way it was. They were both silent for a moment and then Arthur let out a pitiful little mewl that seemed laced with pain and embarrassment. "Shh, it's alright, darling. You're going to be fine," he assured softly, reassuring himself as much as the other man. He felt like crying, he was filled with such a sense of gratitude to the world for Arthur waking up. "Just tell me what's wrong."

"Migraine," Arthur groaned and Eames saw the man clench his fists together in pain.

"Oh love," he cooed, "I wish you had told me sooner."

Arthur turned his head away from the sun, his aversion to the sunlight suddenly making a lot of sense. He nestled closer to Eames's leg, which couldn't be that comfortable, before muttering, "I didn't want to waste our last day."

He felt a wave of affection as well as exasperation wash over him and he suddenly felt like laughing. He felt giddy with his relief, "You're such a selfless idiot sometimes, pet." He made a tsking sound to annoy his mark lightly before turning serious again, "I would have been more than content to bring you food and watch movies in bed."

They stayed there in silence for a few moments, surrounded by the quiet forest. He wanted to kiss Arthur, and hold him close, and scold him, and then kiss him some more. But he remained still until the other man shifted slightly again, "I think I'm okay to get back to the cafe now. Just pass me my wallet."

"You aren't moving," he stated immediately, worried that any movement could spike the man's migraine back to life. He did, however, carefully lean over Arthur's prone form to reach into his pocket to pull out his wallet.

He watched as the man pulled out a painkiller and swallowed it quickly. "We're twenty minutes away, Eames. We can't just stay here until a park ranger wanders by."

When his mark began trying to sit up he had no choice but to help, trying to do anything he could to help the situation. But he made sure that his stance on the idea of Arthur moving was abundantly clear, "I don't approve of this plan at all."

Once they were both back on their feet, Arthur held onto his shoulder while he regained his balance. Arthur began walking down the pathway and he trailed behind, feeling agitated and useless. He had never experienced a migraine before but his mother and grandmother had often been plagued by them when he was younger. Now that he knew the exact cause for that tense pain on that soft face he couldn't believe he hadn't guessed sooner. It was so familiar it made him swallow; he had witnessed the pain a migraine caused even if he had not experienced it. It was miserable.

"The only way I'm going to get rid of this is sleep, darkness, and food so I need to get back to civilization," Arthur spoke up during their walk, trying to justify his plan to walk back to the main entrance of the park.

"And you skipped breakfast?" he asked in exasperation, sighing. "Can I at least carry you?" he asked, honestly wondering if that might help the man relax his eyes a bit from the sunlight streaming through the leaves of the trees. Of course, it was also a selfish request since he just wanted to feel Arthur in his arms again.

"Absolutely not," his mark did not even take a moment to pause and consider his offer.

He rolled his eyes but smiled, knowing before Arthur spoke that his suggestion would be rejected. No matter how badly the man was feeling, or how willing he was to momentarily let his guard down around Eames, he would not approve of being carried. But they eventually made it back to the main entrance, much slower than he would have liked, and he led Arthur over to a bench blanketed in shade. "You lie down there and relax; it'll be quieter here than at the cafe with tons of little kids. Is there anything you want in particular?"

"Water," Arthur requested as he slowly lay down on the bench. Eames was honestly a little surprised that the man was willing to show such a moment of weakness in public; Arthur must be in agony, "And something with grain."

"Alright, sit tight," he leaned over the now sprawled out form and gave Arthur a chaste kiss on his forehead. He could see Arthur watching him when he pulled away, sunlight no longer reflecting off the lenses of the sunglasses. He gave a tiny smile before rushing off to the cafe.

He was glad that he had suggested for Arthur to stay on the bench a little ways away from the cafeteria the moment he reached the end of the line. There were a huge number of kids running around between the national park museum and the cafe, parents and teachers failing to maintain control. He winced as a few kids screamed excitedly, wondering if he would develop a headache of his own in the chaos.

It took a while for him to get to the front of the line since it was still around the traditional lunch time. But when he did he bought two bottles of water and two boxes of spaghetti, hoping it would suit his mark. He struggled to maintain his patience as the cooks slowly prepared and packaged the food, slowly sending him down the line towards the cashier. It's not like he wanted Arthur to get worse just because he was dehydrated and waiting for some bloody food!

Finally he was handed his purchases and he haphazardly balanced them in his arms as he dashed back out of the cafe and down the path towards the solitary bench he had parked his mark on. He heard Arthur's voice speak softly as he approached, slowing down as he approached to try and make himself look a little less ridiculous about worrying. "Eames, did you really mean that when you said you wouldn't have minded staying at the hotel? Or were you just trying to make me feel better?"

He raised an eyebrow, standing beside the man who was still lying down and staring up at him. "Why would I mind, darling?" Honestly, for being such an intelligent man, Arthur could really be dense sometimes. "I would be happy doing anything as long as it was with you. And besides," he cut himself off as Arthur pulled his lunch from his arms and they both sat down on the bench, "I have to get a lifetime of TLC out of my system in one day."

And getting a lifetime of TLC out in one day for this man seemed to be more challenging than he had originally thought. Eames was not normally the caring, doting individual; ever since he had been young he had been forced to look out for himself before anyone else. His own wellbeing was primary over all others, and he had never come across anyone who pulled his attention away to make himself secondary. He knew Arthur was fully capable of taking care of himself, but as he watched his mark faint and topple backwards he had, for just one moment, felt his own heart freeze in fear. He was still a little disoriented by the sudden realization that Arthur's wellbeing was quickly becoming his primary focus. "TLC?"

"Tender loving care," he answered with a small smirk, reusing an acronym his mother had been fond of. "I hope the spaghetti is alright," he admitted, taking a quick bite of his own to see how it tasted. Arthur tried a bite of his own and seemed to approve so they ate in silence, both of them quickly realizing how hungry they had been with all of the fresh air, walking and emotional strain. While they were eating he remembered that after today he would no longer be around to take care of Arthur and make sure he remembered to consider his own wellbeing. He would feel so much better of he knew that there would be someone to remind his mark that he was important too. "I just wish you had told me, love. You need to think about yourself sometimes."

"I didn't want to worry you," Arthur responded, though it looked more like he was apologizing to his pasta than to Eames.

"I'm going to worry no matter what," he laughed humourlessly, "But at least I can help you through it now..." while I'm still here. Out of nowhere, Arthur was suddenly beside him on the bench and pressed up against his side. He felt those soft lips land on his own lips, the spices in the spaghetti sauce turning it into a more memorable kiss than it would have already been. He smiled in elation at the feel but did not respond in return, knowing that if he started kissing his mark he would never be able to stop.

Arthur pulled away a few long moments later, suddenly looking hurt and Eames clarified quickly, "Don't misunderstand, love. If I could have my way with you, you'd be pinned to this bench and calling my name right now." He made sure to whisper against the man's ear, feeling a tingling sensation through his own body at the mere thought. "But that wouldn't help your headache...and there is also a group of school children watching us right now."

He pulled away and continued with his pasta, trying to look more innocent than his mind actually was at that moment. He watched an adorably innocent blush taint those cheeks as Arthur distracted himself with his own lunch. They finished quickly and headed towards the parking lot to line up for the bus back to Sausalito. And then a question popped out of Arthur that he had never expected to hear, "What about dancing tonight?"

He raised an eyebrow, having assumed that Arthur would prefer to remain at the hotel tonight as soon as he realized what was wrong with his mark. Arthur had not truly wanted to go dancing in the first place, and loud music would certainly not help his situation. "I figured you'd want to skip out with you crappy you're feeling."

"I want to go."

He wanted to roll his eyes at the man's resolution. Why could he not have wanted to go dancing this badly the day before when he would have been well enough to enjoy it? "Only if you're feeling better, darling," he demanded, deciding that he was allowed his own ultimatum if Arthur had made him go to a symphony.

Arthur blinked at him in obvious confusion for a moment before they began climbing onto the bus that had just pulled up. "Sometimes I don't understand you at all."

He waved Arthur to the window seat and sat down beside him as the bus filled up fully. Once they were both comfortable and the rest of the passengers were busy with their own conversations he turned to his mark, "I would rather leave you knowing you were healthy and feeling better than leave with an image of you dancing in my head." He swallowed down the distress that the thought of leaving at all caused and leaned forward, suddenly needing to feel those lips tilted against his own again.

He held Arthur's head still, not wanting to jostle him as the other man pressed close to him. He felt those delicate fingers twine in his hair, holding his lips close. That mouth was so...addicting. It was extremely difficult to finally pull away, especially when Arthur's lips trailed his own as he attempted to put distance between them. "You should sleep on our way back. It'll help your migraine," he suggested once he had caught his breath, seeing Arthur's frustrated and hurt look again at the rejection.

Arthur sent him a vicious glare and then his gaze softened, "Just make sure you wake me up when we need to get off for the ferry."

He watched as the other man adjusted his sunglasses and yanked his hood to cover his head more before leaning towards him. He lifted his arm without complaint to allow Arthur to snuggle against his side and dropped his arm securely around those shoulders. "It's not like I'm going to leave you sleeping on here when we arrive in Sausalito," he rolled his eyes and laughed.

"I was more concerned with you carrying me to the ferry yourself," Arthur explained, shifting around until he found a suitable position against him.

Eames felt that hair tickling his neck slightly but didn't really mind. Arthur's remark had brought a mischievous smile to his face though, considering the thought of having an actual excuse for carrying his mark, "Don't tempt me." Arthur did not respond and he realized that his mark had already fallen asleep, tucked against him adorably. He decided to rest his head on top of Arthur's carefully and allow his own eyes to slide shut; he felt utterly exhausted from the worry and stress he had been experiencing over the other man's wellbeing for the day.

He did not fall asleep, knowing that someone had to stay awake to know when they had arrived at their stop, but he quickly fell into a cosy haze of warmth and fondness. He only half heard the coach driver call out the ferry dock stop and blearily pulled himself back into a seated position. "Arthur...Arthur...Arthur..." he whispered against the man's ear, not wanting to jolt that migraine back into existence, "Did you die or something? Arthur!" His mark remained motionless for a moment before he gave a tiny grunt that sounded more like a mewled yawn and snuggled closer against him. He felt a warm sense of affection but knew he had to try again, "No, Arthur, we're at the ferry docks. You have to get up unless you want me to carry you."

"'m awake!" Arthur sat bolt upright, swearing quietly and cradling his head in his hands at the sudden movement. Eames felt sympathetic but dragged Arthur into a standing position and off the bus anyway, hearing the ferry's last bell ringing.

"There's a two-person bench," he noticed an empty bench tucked against a wall and a window as they slipped in past the ferry's closing doors. He began pulling Arthur over to the bench, even as his mark began muttering a mantra that promised nausea and sickness under his breath. "Don't focus on the nausea or the pain, love," he suggested, positioning himself on the bench so that he could hold Arthur while the man lay down.

"There's not much else to focus on," Arthur mumbled quietly as he allowed Eames to pull him down onto the bench. He saw that Arthur was panting and shaky, sickly pale and honestly looking like he was about to throw up on the floor. Remembering what his mother did whenever he had been sick, he made sure that his mark was in a comfortable position on the bench before beginning to rub large circles on Arthur's back. He knew how calming it could be as well as how quickly it could draw your attention away from less pleasant sensations.

He continued his movements as he felt the ferry bob, waves lapping at the side of the boat as they pushed off from the docks. A short time later Arthur, who still looked dangerously pale, lay back against him. The man's head rolled to the side to rest under his chin, but it was not the same movement as that unconscious lolling that had caused his heart to clench. "This is so embarrassing," he heard a quiet voice speak into his chest, muffled by the conversations around them.

He slid a protective arm around Arthur to hold him in place as the boat rocked a little more in the open water. Considering how confident and self-assured his mark had appeared their first few days together, he was quite surprised with how shy Arthur was suddenly being. But he wanted his companion to relax, not to get more uptight and embarrassed so he laughed, trying to make it seem like a silly thing to worry about. "Whatever you need right now, darling. Screw the rest."

He wasn't sure if the man heard him or not because he quickly realized that Arthur's breath had evened out, causing Eames's hand to rise and fall at a slow, even pace. He lazily people-watched for the rest of the ferry ride. Once in a while other tourists riding the ferry would send them a judging or disapproving look but he would simply hold their gaze until they looked away, too nervous to glance over again. He was a little annoyed that they could not mind their own business but was too unwilling to disturb Arthur to cause a scene.

The rest of the ferry ride was dull so he was thankful when Arthur seemed to slowly wake up as the landing bell was rung at the back of the ferry. "Are we there already?" the question was mumbled into his sweater, making it difficult to hear.

He dropped a soft kiss to the top of that head, working around the awkward angle, "You slept the whole way. How are you feeling?"

Arthur finally stood up, allowing him to get up as well and stretch. He had not realized how stiff he had become against the cold wood of the bench until he finally got the opportunity to move around again, muscles tingling. "Much better. My head is still throbbing and I'm considering the idea of destroying the sun...but it doesn't feel like my head is going to split open."

He was pleased to hear that his suggestion had helped improve the situation, though he would be happier if the migraine was gone entirely. But he was feeling upbeat, enjoying the day they had had despite the setbacks, and felt like teasing his mark a bit. "If anyone could find a way to destroy the sun it would be you pet, so I say this honestly: please don't destroy the sun."

"No promises," Arthur retorted in amusement, clearly in a better mood than before.

He enjoyed the warmth of the sun as they walked back to their hotel, hoping the sunlight would not cause Arthur to start his decline again. He still really wanted to see the other man attempt to dance if he was feeling better, knowing that it would be a precious memory for him to laugh over in the years to come. Wanting to get the chance, he made a suggestion as they rode the elevator up to the fifteenth floor, "Well how about we get rid of that headache completely, then? I'm sure the human race will thank me for helping it continue to another generation."

"I'm tired of sleeping," Arthur did the closest thing he'd probably allow himself to get to whining, "I'm well enough to enjoy the rest of the day."

"Do you want to go dancing?" he trailed into his mark's room without waiting for an invitation once the man got the door open, assuming that at this point he was welcome.

"Yes," Arthur sent him a defiant glare as he dropped his wallet and key card on the dresser.

"Then you need to sleep. Hey," he pointed a finger at his mark when he saw Arthur's expression, on the verge of protest, "Don't argue with me. You had your ultimatum and now I have mine. Besides..." he forcefully sat his companion down on the edge of the bed with a smirk before heading over to the windows to close the curtains, "No matter now 'okay' you say you are, there's no point going to a place with loud music when you have a headache."

When he returned to the edge of the bed he saw that Arthur was already under the covers despite his arguments. The next moment he received a warm sweater thrown at his face and he burst out laughing, dropping it to the floor before he crawled up onto the bed, "Feeling playful are we?"

"No," Arthur seemed to breathe, eyes looking a little glazed.

That look reminded him of how the projection of Arthur had stared down at him during the dream and he positioned himself on top of the man's body, knees on either side of narrow hips and hands holding his weight up. "You just like to pretend that you're this perfect..." he dropped a kiss to the man's collarbone, pushing his shirt out of the way slightly, "poised..." a kiss to that enticing neck, "professional guy who does no wrong." He caught those lips quickly before smirking and rolling off the man to lie on the bed beside him, "But you are human somewhere under that mask, darling. You like to have fun and be immature sometimes too."

"Depends on who I'm with," Arthur confessed to him quietly as he began drawing patterns on his arm above the covers. There was a moment of silence between them, "You're not exactly who you pretend to be either, you know."

"What do you mean?" he smiled as he leaned closer, Arthur's all-knowing tone of voice catching his interest. He knew that his mark had learned a lot about him during this week, far more than he should have allowed, but he was curious about how much Arthur actually thought he knew. After all, Eames was an actor – that's what he did – so how much truth could Arthur really pull from him?

"Well," Arthur cuddled up against him so that only the duvet was separating them, "Even though I don't know exactly what you do it's clear that you're a good actor. You act so carefree and happy all the time but it seems like you have an unlimited supply of masks to wear in public. I get from what you've told me of your past that it's hard for you to trust people. But you're not all British charm, flirting and cheer like you pretend. There's a part of you that's hidden away...and I think you're waiting for someone brave to step close enough and know you fully."

He was shocked into silence for a moment, seeing Arthur watching him with just a short distance between them. No matter how much he had told his mark during this week, or how much of his true self he had allowed the man to see, he was still astounded by Arthur's small speech. The man had pulled apart every layer he had placed around himself as a barrier to the outside world, seeing his true self buried far below. He had to fight down his momentary terror – something he usually experienced when someone got too close. He had gotten into the habit of keeping everyone at a distance after his childhood, not trusting anyone to get close enough and not hurt him. And when he thought about it, Arthur had gotten too close and was going to hurt him tomorrow when they split. But he was going to hurt Arthur just as badly.

He felt a sudden undeniable sense of love fill him up for the man beside him, thankful that Arthur had put in the effort to truly get to know him for who he was rather than give up and fall for his masks. In that moment it didn't matter that tonight was their last night together, that tomorrow they would say goodbye forever; right now he just wanted to prove and share the adoration inside of him.

He shifted and positioned himself overtop of Arthur, "Well I guess I don't have to wait anymore," he gave a tiny, grateful smile before he leaned down and caught those soft lips. Arthur pulled away quickly and he worried that he had hurt the man, but after a quick gasp of breath his head was being pulled back down against those lips. He did not hold back this time, hoping that the other man's headache was faded enough to not cause him distress as he lowered his weight on top of that warm body. Once his hands were more or less free he began skimming them over every inch of skin he could find, pressing himself closer.

Their lips moved together with a surprising familiarity, as if they had been doing this forever. He hesitantly brushed the tip of his tongue against Arthur's lips, seeking entrance. That warm mouth opened for him and he delved in, exploring, but then he heard Arthur groan beneath him. He felt a spark of arousal flash through him at the sound but he pulled away, worried he had gone too far or gotten too physical. "I'm sorry; are you alright?"

"What...?" He watched as Arthur panted, pupils dark and blown wide, "That was not a groan of pain."

"Oh..." realization hit him and he forced himself not to laugh, slipping off the bed carefully, "Well we should probably stop now before we get...excited." Not that he wasn't halfway there already.

"You really expect me to sleep after that?" Arthur grumbled, still tucked carefully under the sheets.

"I absolutely do," he could no longer hold in his laugh at the expression on Arthur's face, not that he could blame him; he doubted he'd be able to sleep at this very moment either. He placed a quick kiss on his mark's forehead in apology for riling him up before stepping over to the dresser, "Get some rest and I'll get some food ordered for when you wake up. Do you mind if I borrow your key?"

"You are a torturous bastard, you know that?" Arthur waved him away and he watched in amusement as the man buried himself in the pillows sullenly. He knew this was not a side of his mark that Arthur often showed so he enjoyed it while it was presented to him for his enjoyment.

"You better believe it, darling. I'll be back," he made sure all of the lights were off before exiting the room. First he went to his room to order some food for them, charging it to his room and telling them that he would call them when they were ready for it. After that he decided that he should probably be productive while he had some extra time on his hands and headed down to the front desk. The line was a little long since a few people were checking in at this time of day, but he eventually got his turn with a new receptionist than he had the other day. "Hi, I heard you can check out early if you know there will be no more charges to the room."

The man was very quick and precise, swiping his credit card to pay off the charges he had accumulated. He explained that the next day when he checked out Eames would just have to bring the key down before leaving, unless more charges happened to be made. Then he excused himself to the back room, the same one his receptionist the first day had disappeared to. "Your account says this is for you once you check out."

He took the offered envelope, just as plain as his first one that he had received nearly a week ago. He opened it quickly, knowing that there were other people waiting in line behind him, and felt his heart fall as a plane ticket fell into his hand. He glanced over the terminal and departure time, quickly stuffing it back into the envelope and handing it back to his attendant, "Can I pick this up tomorrow?" He didn't want to look at it anymore.

"Of course, you can pick it up when you hand in your key card," the man explained, tucking the envelope away carefully.

"Thanks," he mumbled and stepped away from the front desk, feeling a little sick. He had been hoping that his plane might leave later in the afternoon or even in the evening so that he and Arthur could work in another half day to be together. But that apparently wasn't the case and he doubted they'd even manage to grab breakfast before he had to grab a taxi.

Feeling dejected, he rode the elevator up in silence and stepped back into room 1731 quietly. He grabbed the door so that it would not slam shut and peeked into the room, taking note of the fact that the bundle of sheets was rising and falling rhythmically – Arthur was asleep. He wanted to crawl into bed and never leave but he didn't want to disturb the other man. He couldn't just sit around with his own thoughts though, waiting for Arthur to wake up as he grew more and more depressed as their last day slowly came to an end.

He noticed Arthur's recently purchased books sitting on the dresser in the darkness and picked the architecture one up carefully. He ducked back around the wall and turned on the lights hung over the counter sitting on the exterior of the bathroom, hoping that it would be dim enough to not bother his mark. The pages felt worn between his fingers so he handled them with care as he began reading the book; architecture was not his speciality or his job, but it never hurt to get some new ideas and details that made a dreamscape more real.

He lost track of time in the book, his disappointment hovering at the edge of his mind, but eventually he heard a groan from the main room. "You alright, love?" he asked quickly, pulling himself off the carpeted floor stiffly.

"What were you doing over there?" Arthur asked instead when he returned to the main room, setting down the book delicately.

"Reading. So..." he sat on the edge of the bed beside Arthur's elbow, "Why were you groaning? Still have your headache?"

"No, the headache is entirely gone, luckily," he watched as Arthur readjusted his position, leaning back against the pillows. Arthur looked away suddenly, "I was groaning because I realized that I spent the majority of our last day sleeping."

"That's alright, love. We were trying to fit a lifetime in, remember? We couldn't have gone an entire lifetime without one of us getting sick," he assured Arthur as he sat on the bed fully and found his own nook in the pillows. Eames felt his own pang of disappointment that they could not have done more, but knew that no matter how much time he had he would never consider it enough. And when he thought about it, they had still managed to make this day wonderful and memorable – redwoods, cuddling, their first kiss, some TLC, and dancing later. They had managed to make the best of a bad situation. "Hungry?" he finally asked to change the subject, "I'll tell them to bring the food up."

He grabbed the phone and called up the food quickly, hearing Arthur's sigh when he hung up, "This is the worst situation I have, or ever will, experience."

"I know," he answered dully. As much as he wanted to comfort the other man through this suffering, there was nothing else he could say that would not be a lie. He knew that some day it would hurt less, that Arthur would forget about him and maybe, someday, he would forget about Arthur as well. But that thought hurt immensely. He hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should add more bad news to the situation, but decided that his companion needed to know, "I checked out while you were sleeping so I wouldn't need to worry about dealing with the charges tomorrow...my plane leaves at eleven in the morning and it's international so-"

"So you'll have to be there at least two hours before departure...We won't even have the morning."

"I wish I could reschedule, love..." he spoke softly. Maybe he could reschedule...or maybe he could just walk to the front desk the next day and tear the plane ticket to pieces. Was this job really worth it, now that he knew what he was giving up for it? He was about to speak, probably to say something that he could never take back and would violently change his future, but he was interrupted by the sound of knocking. "That'd be the food...I'll be right back."

When he returned and spread the food out on the giant bed he was informed by Arthur that his plane was leaving at six in the afternoon the next day. His mark seemed entirely set on the notion of getting on that plane tomorrow and decided that there would be no point in changing his mind now. They had made their choice mutually, and it wasn't fair for him to suddenly take that back and expect Arthur to do the same.

They ate their food quickly, not really enjoying anything, and the food gave him the energy to regain his cheerful attitude now that he was so close to seeing Arthur dance. They chose each other's outfits to kill time, grabbed a drink, and headed to a club that had been recommended by just about everyone in the hotel or online that he had talked to. They arrived and disposed of their coats before heading upstairs.

He bought them both one more drink to relax his mark a bit, but when Arthur was finished his second drink of the night he eventually grew impatient and dragged the man onto the crowded dance floor. "Don't be so shy, darling. You don't even have to do any work; I already want you."

He finished it off with a wink, drawing an attractive blush onto that face as they found an empty space of dance floor close to the wall. "You might change your mind."

"Nothing could make me change my mind, love. You can trust me on that," he assured the man seriously, knowing they were some of the truest words he had ever spoken. "Just..." he began to sway, easily adopting the rhythm of the beat, "dance how you want to dance. Let loose and enjoy!"

He closed his eyes and danced lazily, demonstrating his words. He didn't know the 'right' moves; he just followed the music and had fun. But when he opened his eyes a moment later he saw that Arthur was still standing there on the edge of the floor stupidly, looking lost, so he raised a disapproving eyebrow. This seemed to jolt the man into action and his mark slowly began to give himself up to the beat of the music.

Eames danced for a while himself, keeping his eyes open to watch Arthur even as the other man closed his own eyes. He allowed his gaze to trace over that loose form, those rocking hips, and that relaxed face. There was so much that he wanted to do to his mark in those moments, utterly enthralled. Eventually he found himself losing his control and he pulled Arthur closer. He pulled the man's arms up around his neck, feeling them wrap around him closely as asked without words before he slipped his arms around those swaying hips.

He tried to keep it innocent to begin with, using their close proximity to simply lead Arthur to the music, their bodies moving in harmony. He only had enough self-control to keep that innocence for a few songs though, and soon he gave up and began kissing the man's tempting neck. Arthur's nails dug into his shirt and shoulders as he sucked and kissed hungrily, sighing against his ear as they continued swaying. This caused a jolt of arousal to take him over and he gripped his mark's hips securely before thrusting against him with purpose.

"Eames..." Arthur whined into his ear, thrusting forward to seek more contact. He began walking Arthur backwards until they were against the wall. He was not aware of anything else going on around him, focused solely on the music leading their intimate dance and the feeling of Arthur thrusting up against him while being caught between his body and the wall.

He continued to follow the rhythm of the music as he led them through their private dance, Arthur's arms still holding him close as he lavished attention on that pale neck. Suddenly he felt one of Arthur's hands rest on the back of his head, fingers tangling in his short hair before pulling his head up forcefully into a desperate kiss. He lost every sense of control in that moment, meeting the kiss feverishly. He kept one hand on the small of his companion's back to continue leading Arthur's growing need against his own impatiently, while he released his other hand to tilt the man's mouth at a better angle.

He groaned into that inviting mouth as a shock of pleasure skirted up his spine every time they grinded together. Arthur pulled away, both of them breathing hard in the small space between them, "Hotel."

"Right," he agreed, brain sluggish at the implication of what they were about to do. He seized one last, hard kiss in his anticipation before grabbing Arthur's hand and leading him through the crowd of dancers to get their coats and steal a cab from the front of the downtown club.

His face felt warm and his cheeks tingled as they slid into the back of the taxi, knowing he had a blush on his face and something entirely inappropriate in his pants – but he couldn't bring himself to care as he struggled for breath. He attempted to slide over to Arthur's side of the cab to continue things immediately but was rejected. For a moment he couldn't believe he had completely forgotten how uncomfortable his mark was with the idea of public displays of affection, let alone what they had just done. He took it lightly, understanding, and glanced over at the other man when Arthur spoke, "I don't know why you suggested dancing. We could have just stayed in the hotel and saved ourselves the cab fee."

He smirked at the man's words and how Arthur spoke of what was about to happen like an utter guarantee. "I don't regret a thing, darling. First of all, I'll always have that memory. And secondly," he forced himself not to laugh, "I wanted proof of my assumption that you would be a fucking sexy dancer when you let yourself."

"Bastard," was all Arthur responded with, though it was not spoken viciously.

They slipped into the hotel and he wondered silently why Arthur was walking so slowly, glancing around. But they eventually made it back to Arthur's room, too impatient to move over to Eames's room as his mark began searching for his key. Feeling playful and aroused, he placed his hands on the door, one side on each side of Arthur's head as he pressed against that warm body. He pinned his mark against the door and began grinding against him, languidly thrusting his growing need against the man's sweet arse. He heard Arthur groan as the man threw his head back, "Unless you want something to happen right here in this hallway you better find that key card fast, darling," he warned without pausing in his movements.

Arthur grinded back against him, causing him to groan at the feeling as he was pushed back slightly while his mark found his key. He pressed up against Arthur again just as the door opened, both of them stumbling in. He caught the other man before he fell and as soon as the door clicked closed behind them he began ripping clothes off his mark. Now that they were in private and Arthur would not be uncomfortable, he could barely contain himself.

Once all of their clothing had been removed except for their boxers he stepped closer and pressed Arthur against the wall, lifting him up into the air. He felt the man's arms wrap around his neck and his legs around his hips, keeping that warm body against his own. He began rocking against Arthur with his angle as their lips finally met again; it had felt like an excruciatingly long time since the club. Arthur moaned into his mouth, moving against him, and opened his mouth for Eames to explore. His whole body was tingling with sensation and he was about to take that invitation but he realized that if this was their first – their only time to be together, he didn't want it to happen against a wall and rushed. "Wait, we're rushing this."

"We don't exactly have another day to do the whole courtship thing," Arthur began nipping and kissing his neck, surprising him into a drawn out groan at the feeling. His mark did not really strike him as the person to push or lead this sort of thing, but the man in his arms almost seemed frenzied in his passion.

He was panting as he kissed the man's collarbone, not having the determination to distract that sinful mouth from its current quest. "I know, but we're going to do this right."

He made sure that he had a good grip on Arthur before he quickly leaned over and snatched a bottle of free lotion from the countertop. His mark's limbs tightened around him and he stumbled towards the bed, dropping him on the soft mattress once his knees brushed the edge of the sheets. He slipped his boxers off and stole Arthur's before his companion relocated to the middle of the bed.

He straddled Arthur and slowly brought his weight down on the other man, pressing him into the mattress as they begin a slow and relaxed kiss. Now that they had taken a moment to catch their breath and slow down, they seemed capable of maintaining the new pace to enjoy every detail of this moment. He wished he had had the courage to ignore his dream and do this sooner, though he did not know if Arthur would have accepted him so readily if he had rushed this.

Their hips continued their own dance as he kissed their breath away. Arthur quickly opened his mouth when Eames ran his tongue along that swollen bottom lip. He delved in greedily, tasting Arthur's fresh toothpaste and some of the rum he had drank at the club before this began. He shivered at the feeling of his mark running his curious fingers over his skin, wanting to be even closer as he pressed down. He began feeling dizzy with lack of breath so he pulled away, speaking before he thought, "You know, I was surprised...that you kissed me...darling."

"Why?" Arthur panted, staring at him with dark eyes.

He dropped his head, unable to meet those curious eyes in his moment of embarrassment. But he had already started this, no backing out now. "Well a few nights ago I...dreamt about you. And you kept me from kissing you – said it complicated things. I suppose I just assumed you would say the same in reality..." he noticed Arthur staring at him with a mixed look of embarrassment and renewed arousal, "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"...Was I wearing a collar?"

His eyes widened as realization hit him like a sledgehammer. He had read some theories on dream sharing before – dreams being shared by individuals without the help of the chemicals or the PASIV machine – but there had been no scientific proof that it could happen. It was all anecdotal. But somehow...they had dream shared and...He had already been with Arthur once. This sent a wave of desire down his spine but he pulled away, worried that Arthur would not take this as well as he was. "Shit, I'm so sorry, love. It must have been some sort of shared dream. I didn't know-"

He was halfway through attempting to salvage the situation when Arthur suddenly pulled him down into a mind-numbing kiss. As soon as he realized that his already-lover was not angry – the exact opposite in fact – he met that kiss with everything he had. Every time they broke apart for air he would whisper the man's name between them, disbelieving of his luck at having Arthur wanting to be with him again. And the understanding that even a few days ago Arthur had wanted to be with him, enjoyed their coupling and gave him that affectionate smile afterwards made him eager for more.

"Eames..." Arthur eventually whined when they pulled away for air. He held off from beginning their kiss again and waited, trying to calm his body down so that he didn't finish before this even began. "I want you inside me...now."

He groaned as he lost his breath, his eager need twitching at those surprisingly dirty words spilling from the lips of his precise, proper mark. He nibbled Arthur's lower lip before kissing down that body, memories of their shared dream flooding his mind. "You shouldn't be allowed to talk like that, love." Not if he wanted this to last.

"You love it," his companion moaned as he began working on the man's nipples curiously.

"Damn straight I do," he admitted readily before continuing down that hard, waiting body.

He reached his goal, lying between those spread legs again as he took Arthur into his mouth willingly. He tasted just the same as in their shared dream, warm and salty with precome. "Eames..." Arthur moaned into the air again, making his name sound like a prayer. He glanced up to meet those eyes, "I need you."

He found himself unable to deny that request and pulled away, blowing air against Arthur's wet length that was standing at attention. He watched eagerly as Arthur bucked up into the air at the feeling before he reached over for the forgotten lotion, glancing at the label before dipping his fingers in. "I hope you don't mind smelling like lilies, darling."

"I—hngh – hate you," Arthur grunted as he slipped his first lotion-slicked finger in, though he was hoping that this time it was more comfortable than the dream. Remembering the dream, he began dropping reassuring kisses along the skin he could reach while he worked one and then two fingers in, slowly stretching Arthur in preparation. He found a location on his mark's inner thigh that caused him to arch up against his moving fingers when he nipped it. So he continued kissing and sucking that spot, giving the man a bright hickey and eventually breaking Arthur's self-restraint, "...Please."

At that solitary word he pulled his fingers out and worked on covering himself thoroughly. Once he was prepared he returned to between Arthur's spread legs and carefully pushed himself in. The man below him gave a grunt of minor protest, tensing up around Eames, and he reminded Arthur to relax. As his mark calm he pushed in further until he was fully sheathed and against Arthur. He leaned forward and kissed his lover lovingly as they both adjusted. He had never felt this complete before, as if this was where he was meant to be.

He could not hold back for long though and began sliding in and out of Arthur fully once he was sure the other man was ready. They broke their kiss mutually to breathe as he moved in and out, sliding easily with the help of the lotion. He was lost in the sensation until Arthur suddenly leaned up, changing the angle he was thrusting at, and bit his neck with an obvious hint. He took the silent suggestion and began thrusting at a quicker pace, making sure to push all the way in each time his hips rocked forward. "You're gorgeous, love," he proclaimed easily, words spilling from his lips without conscious thought. "Feel so good, ungh, so tight...Could do this forever..."

He only realized what he had said when Arthur's breath caught and his mark was suddenly wrapping his legs around his moving hips, pulling them closer together. Even though he had not thought about his words before he spoke them, he realized that it was entirely true; he wanted to do this to Arthur for the rest of their lives. Arthur began bucking up to meet each one of his thrusts and pulling him in further. The warmth around him sped up his pace and he suddenly felt Arthur spasm around him as he hit the man's prostate, "Fuck, Eames!"

They managed to figure out the perfect angle for him to thrust against that sensitive bundle of nerves with each thrust, their bodies moving in harmony like two puzzle pieces fitted together perfectly. He could tell that Arthur was close and the other man's body was drawing him towards his completion as well. Arthur's arms wrapped around him to pull him down, their bodies pushed together, and he began to kiss along that neck whenever he had the breath to spare. "Who do you belong to, Arthur?" he asked without thinking, "Who owns your heart?"

Arthur gasped as he bit his skin lightly, nails digging into Eames's back. "You."

"Who?" He asked again, feeling a jolt of pleasure shudder through his spine with each one of Arthur's whispered words. His thrusts were becoming so frantic and hard that he felt Arthur's body being shoved up the bed, having to pull him back down to meet each thrust.

"You," Arthur cried out as he threw his head back into the pillows, "God, you..."

He could feel Arthur's weeping length sliding between their stomachs, which were pressed together tightly. "For how long, love?"

"Forever..." Arthur moaned his answer to him, sending a warning shudder through his body. As he buried his length into Arthur again and again, those words hanging in the air between them, he suddenly felt like he was claiming Arthur, like this was a promise that would last a lifetime. He continued working on the hickey that was forming on Arthur's neck, standing out obviously on that luminescent skin; he wanted everyone to see that Arthur belonged to him, feeling a momentary wave of possession overtake him.

He felt Arthur's body tense around him and arch up and he leaned forward to swallow Arthur's voice as he called Eames's name. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard, hearing Arthur call his name into his mouth as the man came across their stomachs. The man's body continued to buck up as he worked through his orgasm, meeting every one of his desperate thrusts as he searched for his own end. "Come for me, Eames," Arthur asked him wickedly.

He gasped at the words, Arthur's body clenching around him as he continued to spasm and pulled Eames over the edge. "Arthur..." he whispered breathlessly as he shoved himself in as far as he could manage before coming, thrusting shallowly as he spilled himself into his lover's body. He shuddered with his climax, answered by Arthur's own shuddering body as he slowly relaxed.

He collapsed when he was finally finished, breathing hard against Arthur's skin. He wrapped one arm around his mark's stomach to hold him close, feeling the sticky mess that was the proof of Arthur's enjoyment. That made him smile as he snuggled closer, feeling warm and complete. Despite the fact that he had wanted to do this with Arthur since before their dream, he was still surprised at how utterly content he felt. He could not think of much else he could share with Arthur, how they could get any closer than in this moment; until he told Arthur everything, of course. And as he lay there on top of the sheets and Arthur's body, messy and loved, he decided that someday he would tell Arthur the full truth.

But a stronger thought came to mind first, sidetracking him. He couldn't believe that in his moment of passion he had made Arthur make those sorts of claims and promises. He knew that someday, sometime after they split, Arthur would find someone else to make him happy. It broke his heart to consider it, but he knew it was the truth. And what bothered him even more beyond the fact that he had made Arthur promise that was the realization that he had not made the promise in return – vocally at least. "I shouldn't have made you say that."

"Which?" his mark gave a quiet sigh, tired rather than exasperated.

"The belonging and forever thing," he admitted, kissing that skin in apology for his mistake. "But I feel the same you know. I'm yours. Until the day I die...I'm yours," he promised, dropping feathery kisses to that salty skin. Even if they would someday manage to pick themselves up and continue on, he wanted Arthur to know that he felt the same and would be just as heartbroken the next day.

"Eames..." Arthur used a tone that drew his eyes up to meet that gaze, which was lit up with moonlight, "Whether or not we should have said it doesn't matter because we both already knew it was true."

He swallowed a lump in his throat at hearing those words, moved by the honesty and devotion in that soft voice. He held himself up so that he could look down at his mark's open and non-judging face. "...Arthur?" he began hesitantly, wondering if he was going to go too far and shatter this moment. It felt as if he was handling the finest china and one wrong step could cause it to crumble.

"Yeah?"

"I love you," he spoke confidently, wanting his words to sound as honest and assured as he could ever manage. This, above all else, was what he needed Arthur to believe.

He watched as a beautiful smile took over those soft lips and the man's chocolate brown eyes, hazel streak lit up in the moonlight, brim with tears. He understood this expression when Arthur spoke, sounded just as serious, "I love you, too." Even though he had been pretty sure that Arthur felt the same towards him, it was wonderful to hear the words aloud and spoken so boldly. Since his mark was such a private person who seemed unaccustomed to letting people get close, so similar to Eames in many ways, he had been unwilling to read too deeply into the man's actions. Those private smiles, meant just for him, those stolen glances, those moments he would allow Eames's touch even if it was unnecessary. He was scared to allow himself to see too much in them, worried he would have to deal with disappointment on top of heartbreak.

But now he knew and he dipped down to catch Arthur in a slow kiss. It was filled with happiness and love and completion; but at the same time it was tinged with sadness and regret, knowing that every second that ticked by was another second closer to their inevitable end. After a while Arthur pulled away and switched their positions, Eames finding his back pressed against the mattress and pillows while Arthur began tracing a finger over his skin. As his mark came across various scars he had accumulated throughout his years, the man began asking about their origins; ever the curious one. He explained each one easily, willing to tell Arthur anything in their moment of bliss as they temporarily separated themselves from the thought of tomorrow. He knew that if Arthur had asked him about his job or why he had to leave right then, he would have told the truth.

Instead, Arthur ran out of skin and curled up in his arms, yawning tiredly. Eames pulled the sheets half over them and held his companion close, breathing in his scent. Arthur's hair smelt of the hotel's free shampoo and he idly wondered what the man's hair would smell like with Arthur's own shampoo; what he kept wherever he called home. If he were to stay with Arthur beyond this week he would find out; there was so much he could still learn about him and he wanted to know it all. He came out of his musings when he realized that his mark's breathing was slowing. "Arthur...Arthur? Arthur!"

"Wha?" the man muttered, nestling his head closer to his chest.

The thought of them falling asleep and their last few hours slipping away from their grasp caused tears to burn his eyes. He tried to fight them, to keep them from falling. "Don't go to sleep yet," he begged.

"But 'm so tired..."

"Please...I'm not ready for it to be tomorrow..." he heard his own traitorous breath catch as he fought his tears. The understanding that tomorrow he would have to kiss Arthur, tell him he loved him, kiss him again, say goodbye, and then leave forever broke him. His tears finally flowed freely, stinging his eyes and wetting his cheeks. He looked away in embarrassment when Arthur looked up at him curiously, seeing that he was crying. He had not cried in years, but he was hoping that maybe Arthur would have something to say – something to make this hurt less. But instead of speaking, Arthur placed delicate and loving kisses along his face while brushing away his hair, finally kissing his salty and quivering lips. "You're not saying anything," he whispered desperately.

"Because there's nothing to say," Arthur spoke apologetically, a few similar tears sliding down the man's cheeks and catching the moonlight. "I wish there was something I could say to make it better – make it hurt less. But tomorrow will come whether we want it to or not."

He allowed one embarrassing, pathetic sob to escape him before he pulled Arthur down into a crushing embrace. Arthur hugged him back just as strongly, cradled against him. He knew his tears were probably spilling onto his mark's skin, just as Arthur's tears were wetting his skin, but neither of them complained. "I love you, Arthur," he proclaimed again, wondering if maybe that would make some new solution appear.

"I love you too, Eames," Arthur reminded him easily, petting his hair absentmindedly to try to relax him. As much as he had hoped those words might be the magical fix, they merely made the thought of tomorrow hurt more as he continued to cry. "Let's go have a shower to calm down," Arthur suggested to him eventually.

"Okay," he agreed without any real intention of letting the man out of his grasp. He hated crying, the sting of his eyes, the headache, the way it caused his body to shake. He had cried for weeks after his mother had died; he had cried for so long that he assumed he had cried a lifetime's worth of tears because he had not cried again after he finally stopped. Until now. But he felt safe crying with Arthur beside him, sharing his sorrow and pain. It was still unpleasant but he didn't feel like it was something to avoid anymore. He finally relaxed with Arthur's warmth beside him, "...Okay."

He released Arthur hesitantly, fearing he would turn to smoke and disappear this moment. But instead his mark pulled him off the bed and led him into the shower. He stood under the spray dully, feeling the warmth of the spray slowly fight off his shivering. Arthur looked back at him, "I thought you would have been overjoyed to get me in the shower naked."

"Don't get me wrong, love," he smiled minutely, glancing over Arthur's gorgeous body once for good measure, "But it's hard to be happy when I know this is one of the last times I'll see you."

Arthur stared at him for a moment before pulling him under the spray, capturing his lips easily. He was surprised by how therapeutic the feel of his lover's lips against his was; it momentarily blurred everything else in his mind as he focused solely on the wonderful sensation, body warm and relaxing. When they eventually stopped, Arthur seemed to realize that he was feeling a little more stable because he braved some advice, "Just do what we did this whole week. Enjoy the moment; don't think about tomorrow before you have to."

It was not the most satisfactory advice, but it was the best they both had so he smiled and did his best to shove tomorrow away. Besides, how could he stay depressed and distracted with a naked Arthur standing in front of him under the hot shower spray? With this thought in mind he began washing Arthur's body, flirting here and there as he massaged the skin and muscles he came into contact with. He also washed away their sticky mess, enjoying his excuse to paw Arthur's stomach and arse. His mark washed him in a similar fashion until they got distracted and ended up kissing leisurely under the spray again. "One thing I almost forgot."

"What's that, love?" he asked, noting the rarely-heard playful tone in the other man's voice.

"This." That mouth was suddenly fastening to his neck, teeth nipping his skin before Arthur began to suck hard. He groaned loud enough to be heard over the falling water and rested his head on Arthur's bare shoulder. He wrapped one hand on each of Arthur's narrow hips, fingers splayed wide and holding the other man close as they slid over wet skin.

He felt his skin tingle where Arthur's mouth was working, knowing without seeing that he was soon to receive a similar hickey to the one he had possessively placed on his lover's neck. "That's not exactly a good way to relax someone, you know," he only pulled away when he was sure Arthur was done, not minding the possessive attention nearly as much as he made it sound.

"I know," Arthur smirked with intent, "but I wasn't walking out of this hotel with a hickey if you weren't. Now everyone will know that someone managed to capture your heart...even if only for a week."

He could tell that Arthur's thoughts were quickly spiralling downward so he decided to help him in the same way his mark had helped earlier. He laughed as he turned off the shower, trying to lighten the mood, "And you're the one who acts so bloody mature." They towelled themselves dry and moved back into bed naked, knowing that at this point there was nothing to be uncomfortable about. "It seems like such a waste to sleep," he spoke quietly as he pulled the covers over them.

"I know, but we have to," Arthur sounded just as displeased as he did, making him feel marginally better if only because his heartbreak was shared.

"I know," Eames agreed. Arthur had lain down on his side facing away from the windows so he curled up behind him, spooning his body around Arthur's. He wrapped one arm around his mark's stomach to hold him close but he felt the other man catch his hand, twining their fingers together silently.

"Eames?" Arthur asked him hesitantly in the silence, yawning loudly before tucking his body closer against his own.

"Yeah, darling?" he yawned as well, the action contagious.

"Don't leave without saying goodbye."

"I won't," he pledged, sealing his promise with a kiss to the base of Arthur's neck, short hairs tickling his lips. He relaxed against the pillows for a few moments, biting his lip and wondering if he should speak. But he decided that this was probably his last chance to say it and that it was something he would regret holding back later, "Arthur?"

"Yes?"

"I'm so glad I met you," he pulled Arthur closer, as if that were possible. He meant those words seriously, just as seriously as when he told Arthur he loved him. His heart was breaking and he didn't know how long it would take for him to be okay after they split, but he was still thankful for meeting Arthur. The man had changed him, given him hope, and been brave enough to get to know him for who he truly was. He was so grateful for that.

"Me too," Arthur muttered to him in the darkness, "So glad."