[Stay] Fleeing the country

[versatilehand]

With a week to go until Olympic fever hits London, Eames finds himself packing his bags for an extended stay in Arthur's Madrid apartment. A part of him is still hoping he'll be able to talk Arthur into staying just for the first day or so, to go to the Opening Ceremony and see all the pageantry, but his lover seems very insistent that they get the hell out.

"You know, darling," he's talking with his head inside the wardrobe, not used to packing for such a long trip. He packs light for jobs, and tends not to go on holidays.

"You don't have to pretend that you want to spend time with me if you're really so sick of Britain. I won't be offended if you take a job."

Comments

[weightofadie]

"You know I would," Arthur returns from his position on the end of the bed watching Eames 'pack'. He's not really that sure that the Englishman is really completely focused on the task at hand, but to his credit he'd mentioned Madrid and there hadn't been that much resistance to the idea. London was about to be the focus of the world's gaze and Arthur didn't particularly feel like getting caught up in the center of that storm. And Madrid had always meant something to both of them.

"I can handle you for a few more weeks."

[versatilehand]

"And you're sure I can't change your mind about staying for just a few days?" Eames backs out of the wardrobe with a handful of shirts in a variety of patterns and colours, tossing them unceremoniously onto the bed. There'll be an iron in Madrid, if he can be bothered with that sort of thing.

"It's not every day you go to an Olympics ceremony, you know. I could get us in, easy."

[weightofadie]

"I didn't realize you'd be wearing one of the African nations flags," Arthur comments dryly and tugs a particularly offensive shirt towards him. It's both far too big for him and not something he wants to put up against himself as though to demonstrate to Eames how horrific it looks; he just can't bring himself to because he knows it's a lost cause.

"How many days?"

[versatilehand]

"Just Friday night, if you're so loathe to the idea of fun," Eames laughs and starts trying to locate matching pairs of shoes. He's been home for a while now, and the longer he stays in one place, the more disorganised he becomes.

"It's a once in a lifetime opportunity." He says it without much heart; for them, they could easily go to any event at any Olympics for the rest of their lives. He also knows that he won't win this fight, deep down, hence the continued half-hearted attempt at packing his bags.

[weightofadie]

"I guess we'll be the only people going in the opposite direction on Saturday morning," Arthur says out loud and seems to be giving the idea a reasonable amount of consideration. It's not like he's having a massive tantrum over staying in London. He just thinks the idea of getting caught up in all of those people is a bad one.

[versatilehand]

"Precisely. The airports will be bedlam, this week."

Eames, typically, has not thought through his suggestion in anywhere near as much depth as Arthur has. This is why he is a forger, and not a point man.

Every time something happens that brings back memories of Cuba, Eames tells himself it'll be the last time. Those events were over a year ago, now, and he tries to believe that he's over it all. He's not, he knows that deep down, but he's definitely not ready to talk about it. And so he forces himself to do things he knows he shouldn't, things like going into dark, crowded, noisy places. One of the largest events the city has ever held, for example.

And if he were to stop and think things through, he'd realise that going straight to Madrid would be the far better option. Most likely, Arthur's already worked that out and is trying to keep him away from so many triggers, but Eames' mind doesn't go so fast. He's always struggled with thinking about consequences.

[weightofadie]

Arthur's thoughts are usually a few steps ahead of everyone else and it satisfies him to know that the plans he makes are usually watertight as standard. He enjoys being the man who takes care of the details that range from small to large and knowing his colleagues for the job well enough to make sure they're all given exactly what they need. He knows Eames better than he knows anybody, and he was there when Cuba went down and for the rehabilitation afterwards. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what might pose a problem as far as triggers go and Arthur is a smart man.

So when he'd suggested they get out of town for the Olympics and go escape somewhere hot and sunny (and not 14 degrees and raining in the middle of the British summer) it was with the mental image of thick, pulsing crowds and no room on the sidewalk and Eames' panic reaching levels where even he finds it hard to bring him back from. There's only so much calm and control he can offer before even he starts to get lost.

"Okay. Friday we go to your Opening Ceremony and Saturday morning we're out of here."

[versatilehand]

"Oh?"

Eames doesn't quite manage to hide the look of surprise on his face, not expecting to win this argument at all, let alone so easily. He's used to Arthur making up his mind on something; once it's made, it's made.

"So gracious of you, pet. If you want to sound a little excited, then that's just fine too."

[weightofadie]

"Don't push it," Arthur warns and tries to ignore the look of surprise on Eames' face. It's like the other man is implying he always calls the shots. He stands and concedes that maybe a lot of the decisions get made by him for good reasons.

"I'm going to make some coffee. When you're done packing your clothes fit for a circus... come join me."

[versatilehand]

"At least I'm not packing clothes fit for a board meeting," Eames replies at once with a chuckle, dropping what he's doing at once in favour of following Arthur through to the kitchen. If they're spending more time in London now, packing is most definitely not a priority. Not that he was taking it particularly seriously beforehand.

Draping himself over one of the kitchen chairs, he watches Arthur silently as he makes the coffee, taking a moment to appreciate how attractive his lover is. He's sure he'll get told off for staring in a minute, but he doesn't much care.

[weightofadie]

"I don't expect you to recognize style," Arthur shoots back and sets about making the coffee, every action controlled and precise. Sometimes, his version of making coffee looks more like some sort of scientifically-accurate chemistry experiment but today he looks less like the outcome will cure cancer.

"You're always going to be one of those weird British eccentrics. I'd say it's not your fault, but then I've seen how your family dress. I have no idea what your excuse is," he teases the other man lightly and then, when he realizes all has gone quiet, glances up.

"You know what lasts longer? A picture."

[versatilehand]

"I don't need a picture," Eames says, hands behind his head and showing no signs of embarrassment at how he's staring.

"I have the genuine article, whenever I want to. To ravage."

[weightofadie]

"Oh do you? Whenever you want?" Arthur sounds a lot like Eames is pushing him towards being stubbornly contrary over that statement. He figures the forger should know better so it makes him suspicious.

[versatilehand]

"I do," Eames just nods again. He's already talked Arthur into staying for the Opening Ceremony, he feels as though he's on a roll with regards to getting his own way.