Disclaimer: As always I own nothing but the original ideas and characters. Thank for reading and please review so I know what you think.

Dedicated to the 'Guest' who got me thinking about this again. I'll try to do more with it, or at least finish it, sometime this year. My originals plans for it aren't going to work anymore so it's very much in the air at the moment. Les sigh.

Showing Some Imagination

Drifting between sleep and wakefulness Eames mentally cursed the fact that he was just awake enough to know that he really should stop napping and get his arse out of bed before he passed out again. Or at least try to get up again. Actually moving more than one muscle at a time might be a little overly ambitious of him since the whole reason he'd gone to bed in the first place was thanks to the physio visit from hell. Aka trying to move even a limb at this point was going to hurt like a bitch no matter how careful he was. Especially since the drugs he'd loaded up on as soon as his mother had handed them over wouldn't be working at peak efficiency at this point.

No good fucking deed went unpunished.

Long had Eames known that the woman who worked the front desk at the physio clinic he went to was dead useless. And that was being kind. She was always fucking up schedules and such, and Eames had decided after her first two screwups that she had to be related to or screwing around with whoever owned the place. It was the only possible reason why she hadn't been tossed out on her arse years ago. Instead she continued to fuck up scheduling which had led to her calling his mum this morning to ask if he could come in today instead of tomorrow for his actual appointment. AND have a different therapist as his usual had the day off.

Damn Mother, saying that of course they could.

But on the A side this could only improve his relationship with his usual therapist, Eames thought darkly. He'd never call Chris a goddamn sadist again. Or at least not outloud. And at least Chris didn't talk like he was being paid by the fucking word rather than with the aim of helping Eames regain the ability to walk unaided. The new guy Corey hadn't shut the fuck up once during the whole bloody session and it wasn't even about Eames's condition for the most part. No, Corey was one of those people who thought everyone wanted to hear their entire life story while that person was in PAIN as he struggled to do the exercises designed to insure he didn't spend the rest of his life using a chair or cane.

Fucking A.

And who really wanted to talk to a nearly middle aged guy who'd bought his long term girlfriend a puppy because she wanted a baby and he saw this as a compromise. Right. Like that was going to work long term. The gobshite hadn't even let her name the damn dog because apparently all of her picks were too lame in his opinion. Hopefully she dumped the gobshite soon and took the puppy with her. Some people were just not supposed to breed. Survival of the fittest, right?

Crap. The more he thought about it the more aware Eames was that he wasn't really sleeping and should just open his eyes at least to get a look at the time. If he slept the damn afternoon away he wouldn't get any bloody sleep that night unless he took something. And right now being able to take the painkillers was far more important.

Sighing over his fate Eames slowly lifted his lashes, knowing the room would be too bright even with his curtains in the way, and then blinked in surprise at the sight that greeted him.

What the fuck?!

Not that he was complaining, Eames silently tacked on as he stared at his boyfriend, who was currently fast asleep beside him. In his bed. Under his covers.

Blinking rapidly to clear up any lingering blurriness Eames struggled to figure out how this had all come to pass. Because Arthur sure as hell hadn't been next to him the last time he'd been awake and at least somewhat aware of his surroundings. He'd have thought he was still dreaming since his earlier napping musing had included thinking about Arthur a LOT, but Eames reasoned that there was no way he'd be this sore if he was dreaming. And they sure as fuck wouldn't just be sleeping if this was a product of his very perverted and imaginative mind. As his dreams could regularly attest.

Arthur was lying on his side and facing Eames while Eames was on his back, wishing he was up to moving in to wake his darling with a kiss. But Eames knew his back wasn't up to being without support at the moment, he was painfully aware of that fact, actually, and so all he could do was be glad he'd fallen asleep with his head facing in Arthur's direction so he didn't have to struggle to at least look at him.

Goddamn but he was so beautiful.

He'd never really been able to just look at Arthur, Eames mused as he did exactly that. Not that he hadn't wanted to stare like a creeper, but that would have been seriously fucking ha ha creepy, but here was his chance and Eames was taking it. Every faint freckle and eyelash, the beautiful shade of Arthur's skin as it continued to soak in the summer's rays despite how careful Eames knew his boyfriend was when it came to applying sunscreen. And damn but the man's bone structure…it made him wish Eames was a sculptor. Arthur's face deserved to be carved into marble.

Compelled to touch after several minutes of creepy staring Eames foolishly told himself that he could at least shuffle a little closer to his sleeping boyfriend to make that easier on his body.

Yeah. No.

Closing his eyes like he only wished he could close out the pain burning through his body, Eames opened his eyes moments later to see Arthur looking back at him with brown eyes focused and concerned as he asked in a sleep roughened voice if Eames was all right.

"Been better."

So it was Arthur who moved in closer instead, his touch cool and welcome on Eames's cheek. "Do you need something for the pain? And don't try to shrug the pain off either. Not that you can probably shrug at the moment." There was definitely a hint of a smirk on Arthur's face.

Unfortunately Arthur was dead to rights about the whole not being able to shrug thing.

"Wot time is it?"

Lifting up his arm and bringing it up to his face, because of course Arthur wore a watch rather than rely on his phone like most people these days, Eames's boyfriend informed him that it was a little after three.

"Can't take anything for another hour then." Shit.

"Ouch."

"Word." But when your mum was a doctor you didn't take chances with your meds. She'd bloody well verbally skin him alive if he dared to risk it, Eames silently acknowledged with a sigh before asking what Arthur was doing in his bed. Not that he was complaining in the slightest.

It was also a serious testament to how much pain he was in that he didn't suggest that Arthur might try and take his mind off his pain. It would hurt too much.

"We went to the farmers' market this morning. You Know Who has to be seen out and about with us to keep Child Services out of the picture after all." Arthur rolled his eyes for emphasis. "Anyway one of the stalls was having a really good sale on strawberries. I know they're your favorite fruit, so I picked you up some and came by to drop them off about one thirty. When your mom found out I was kid free until dinner time she said I could obviously use a nap and suggested I join you." Arthur's lips curved into a smirk again. "She said you were in such bad shape she knew we wouldn't get up to anything besides sleeping. I tried not to be insulted."

"Fraid she was right, Darling. Just the thought of moving hurts at the moment." Which was bloody lowering to admit, especially since he was always physically weaker than Arthur. "Though thanks for the berries. Seriously."

"Really, Mr. Eames. Where's your imagination."

Shit. That wicked smile…well ordinarily Eames would have been fucking chuffed to see it, but he hadn't been kidding. He COULDN'T move.

"Oh don't look so worried. All you have to do is NOT move. You can do that, right?"

And so saying Arthur slid under the covers and shifted up until he was on his hands and knees and could move over so that his knees were on either side of Eames's hips and his hands bracketed Eames's head. For a moment Arthur straightened up a little, which was disappointing, but it turned out that Arthur had moved away just so that he could reach down and very gently turn Eames's head for him so that he was looking straight up at him. None of Arthur's weight was on him to distract him, and Eames found himself looking up at Arthur in anticipation as his boyfriend lowered first his hands and then his head down to press their lips together as soon as his were in reach.

Eames stayed as still as he could-but it was bloody difficult when your boyfriend was snogging your brains out. Though less so as the minutes ticked by and Eames found himself all but melting into the bed as Arthur proved just how good of a kisser he was. Not to mention the fact that there was something both intimate and relaxing about knowing that they couldn't do more than this. Sex of any sort wasn't going to happen. All they could have was the pleasure of mouths and tongues. Just this and being surrounded by Arthur's scent and body.

And who knew that there was so many ways to kiss? He'd had no idea.

But he was happy to learn each and every one of them.

)

Much later, when teenage hormones made it impossible to kiss anymore without taking it further, Arthur regretfully and very carefully returned to his earlier position of lying on his side beside Eames, who turned his head on his own to smile at him with such a big, goofy smile that Arthur had to lean forward and give him one more kiss. He couldn't help himself. It actually pained him to pull away to ask Eames exactly what time he could take his meds again. All that kissing must have taken a decent bite out of that hour deadline.

Consulting his watch after Eames answered Arthur frowned at how much longer they had to wait before deciding that another course of distraction was called for. Namely asking Eames how the hell he'd gotten into this situation in the first place. Yes Eames had said that his therapist Chris was a sadistic drill sergeant, but he'd thought he was just exaggerating.

"I don't even know where to begin." Eames informed him, though that uncertainty lasted for about three seconds before his boyfriend launched into his tale about the grossly incompetent Corey, the girlfriend with very questionable taste in men, and a poor puppy that was now dependant on them for proper care. And had been stuck with a god-awful name to boot.

"Who names their puppy that?" Eames demanded to know. "Americans, that's who."

"You do realize you're half American, right?"

"I was born in England." Eames outrage was palatable as he argued that that meant that he was English, and would be a Brit until the day he died. He'd lived there longer than any other country, and his accent alone made it clear where his allegiances lay.

"So if a cat has babies in an oven they're muffins, not kittens?"

"Wot?"

"Nothing." He really was too adorable, Arthur mused as he stole another kiss just because.

Scowling adorably Eames muttered some more about being English before asking just where the sprogs were. Had his dad taken them off somewhere without Arthur again? And was that wise?

"I was invited this time. I just declined. The independent theater in town is having a Disney Movie week and I did not want to watch 'Cars' again. Owen Wilson annoys me on visceral level."

"Like Will Ferrell."

"Exactly." Thank God Eames got it.

"'Stranger Than Fiction'." They both said in perfect tandem.

"I know, right?" Eames.

"The genius of the premise, if they'd just gotten someone else to play his character."

"Exactly. And I bloody well love Emma Thompson-"

"Who doesn't love Emma Thompson?"

"Ignorant wankers." Eames proclaimed. "And I was super psyched to see it. The movie. I thought not even he could ruin it, especially since I adore Maggie Gyllenhaal as well, but I just couldn't get into it. And he wasn't even that bad in it, in all honesty. It was all the shite he'd done previously that I couldn't forget."

Arthur nodded his head in absolute agreement. "And it's not even that actors who've played frat boy idiot types can't overcome that stereotype. I thought Adam Sandler did an excellent job in 'Spanglish'. But-there are just some roles you can't take on without them haunting you for the rest of your career."

"I've never seen 'Spanglish'. It's worth seeing?"

Their discussion of 'Spanglish' was slightly derailed when the question of whether Penelope Cruz had been in it or not came up. Arthur thought yes but they looked it up on his phone and it turned out to be another Spanish actress who resembled the other actress. This led to a listing of famous actors and actresses who looked like each other like Amy Adams and Isla Fisher, and Henry Cavill and Matt Bomer.

"And did you know that Keira Knightley played one of Natalie Portman's handmaids in the first 'Star Wars'? Well not the first-you know what I mean, right?"

Yeah, Arthur knew what he meant. "I'm aware that she was the one who impersonated the Queen at one point so that the actual Queen could go off with the Jedis, yes. Though I will admit that I've only seen bits of the second prequel and none of the third aside from clips. They just didn't appeal to me."

"Can't say I blame you." Eames agreed with a sigh.

A knock on the door had Arthur calling out for whoever it was to enter, Eames very slowly turning his head in that direction as well.

The door opened to reveal Eames's mother who leaned against the door jamb as she looked them over with a thoroughness that made Arthur think she somehow knew that they'd been making out earlier. Even though there really was no way…but still…

"I see you're both awake. How are you feeling, Sweetie?"

"Could be worse."

She smirked at them. "As medicinal as I'm sure Arthur's kisses were, you can take another round of meds if you need them."

What the?

"Mum!"

Her smirk just got that much better. "What? Your lips didn't get that red and swollen all on their own."

Ah. She wasn't wrong either. And Arthur wasn't sorry.

"Seriously, Mum!"

Eames's mom winked at her son and then looked over at Arthur. "I thought you'd want to know that your father is downstairs with the kids. He said he wanted to meet Mimi and thank her for the lessons she's been giving Phil. He noticed your car out front."

"Of course he did."

Throwing off the covers Arthur slid off the bed and then turned around to straighten the sheets and make sure they covered Eames properly. Which was hindered by Eames's groan as his boyfriend not only turned his head to look at him, but actually reached out to grab his wrist.

"Help me into my chair."

"What? No." He appreciated the sentiment of course, but no. Eames seemed determined to try and be his knight in shining armor for reasons that-maybe because he was British? They were big on knights there. But then again in all the time he'd lived there before no one had tried to be his protector either. It was probably just Eames.

"He's right, Kiddo. You aren't in any condition to go anywhere. And Arthur's dad is on his best behavior at the moment. As it is he's pretty busy trying and failing to win over your grandmother. It's bugging the hell out of him." Eames's mother laughed as she said that.

"But-"

"No buts." Bracing his free hand on the bed, along with one knee, Arthur stretched over to give Eames a last quick kiss. "It'll be fine. Really. He behaves around the kids. And we haven't fought once today either." Not yet, anyway. Arthur wasn't holding his breath there.

Eames's scowling was unexpectedly adorable.

"I'll keep your boy safe, Tom. And your dad's downstairs too."

Okay, this treating him like a damsel in distress needed to stop now.

"I am capable of taking care of myself, you know. I've been doing it pretty much since birth."

Great. Now they were both giving him pitying looks.

So done with that Arthur told Eames he'd text him later and then got off the bed, waving an added goodbye before walking over to the door with a look in his eyes that hopefully conveyed to Eames's mother that he had this and any suggestion that he didn't was going to piss him off.

"Men." Was all she said before moving off to the side, gesturing for him to walk through.

"Arthur!"

Looking over his shoulder Arthur raised an eyebrow in Eames's direction.

"Thanks again. For coming by. And the strawberries."

"You're welcome. Get better soon."