AN: This is a bit of a short chapter, and, strangely enough, I wrote it before chapter 20. And, you lucky dogs get it the same day! Anyway, it kind of sucks, and it's mostly poorly conceived dialogue, so just bear with me. There's only one more chapter after this which should wrap everything up nicely. But until then, enjoy "Open."

Chapter 21

"Open"

Arthur groaned and rolled away from the older man. Pushing himself up into a sitting position, he rubbed his face with his hands roughly.

"Fuck, Eames. I apologized and we fucked. You got everything you wanted. How could this not be over?"

He glared over his shoulder at the pillow next to Eames' head. Eames sat up then, leaning forward and staring at Arthur in disbelief.

"Everything I wanted? I wanted to talk, Arthur! I don't know if you were raised in a cave somewhere, but that was not talking."

He said, gesturing to the rumpled, dirty sheets as he spoke. Arthur forced himself not to follow the motions of his hand. He didn't think he could stomach seeing proof of what he'd just done. It was a one-time thing. Eames should have been satisfied. What else could he possibly want?

"Oh, give it up, Eames! You only want to talk so you can report back to Cobb. Your only interest in this was the idea of having sex with me! I'm just another notch on your belt. I get it. Now leave me alone."

He said, turning away from the older man again. Eames openly gaped at him. There was a moment of silence that was neither awkward nor comfortable. Finally, Eames spoke up.

"Is that really what you think? That I just wanted to bed you? You honestly believe that? Even after I chased you for a year and a fucking half?"

He voice started out soft, and rose in volume until he was almost yelling the last part. Hurt dripped from every word, and Arthur felt himself break again. Whipping around to face the Brit, he punched him. Hard.

"No! Of course I don't fucking believe that you were only interested in my body!"

He cried, attempting to glare at him through the traitorous tears that were building in his eyes.

"It's just easier to tell myself that. Easier than thinking for even a minute that you, the biggest fucking playboy alive, actually wanted me."

He whispered, more so to himself than to Eames, as he looked down at the blankets. The Brit shifted a bit, his own eyes softening slightly.

"And that's what scared me! I was afraid. There! Are you happy now? I admitted it. I was fucking scared. Scared of my own emotions. Scared that you might be serious. Scared that I wouldn't be able to control what was going on. I was scared, so I ran. Ran like the coward I am. Is that what you want to hear?"

Eames, who had been gently rubbing his jaw, stopped when Arthur started screaming again. Arthur knew he sounded broken and he knew Eames could hear it, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He collapsed in on himself, falling to the bed in a heap, shuddering slightly. Eames was on him in an instant, rubbing soothing circles on his back and rocking him gently against his chest. And, for a moment, Arthur felt safe. But, of course, that feeling didn't last long.

"Get off!"

He screamed, throwing the older man's arms off him. To his utter dismay, Eames simply gripped him tighter.

"I don't need your sympathy! Leave me alone."

He continued, his anger dying with every word. He struggled against Eames' solid frame, trying desperately to shake him off, but the Brit held firm. Even when he managed to turn in his arms and physically strike the man, Eames didn't move. He took the blows silently, as if he didn't even feel them.
Finally, Arthur gave up, too exhausted to fight any longer. And when he collapsed for the second time that night, Eames was there, still holding him like some sort of precious child.

"Arthur, please listen to me. If only for a minute, I need you to listen. I would never, never, risk my relationship with you simply because I wanted in your pants. You're basically my only friend. More than that, you're the only person I can truly trust. Why would I throw that away? And I'll be honest, at first, I did just want a go at you, but then you opened your damn mouth and blew me away. Ever since then I've been waiting patiently for you to come around. In fact, I'd damn near accepted the fact that you never would. But I was alright with that, as long as you still paid some sort of attention to me. I didn't mean to scare you away. And that night, the night you left, do you know what I wanted to talk about? Well, of course you don't. I just wanted to apologize. For being so immature. I was hoping we could go back to being friends. That's all. Not that you would admit that we were friends at all. But just look where that attempt at a talk went. I was kind of hoping this one would go a bit better. All in all, I guess it did. At least you're still here. I mean-"

Arthur groaned beneath him and turned slightly, placing his hand tiredly on the older man's face.

"Eames? Shut up."