royal_musings | Ships Passing [12] for Artful

Getting shot right after the New Year during a, what seemed to be, routine job hadn't been on his list of 'New Year Resolutions'.

In fact, not getting shot during a job was definitely somewhere on that list. It wasn't as though a job turning sour was common because it wasn't. Normally Arthur worked the jobs where he wasn't likely to get shot, due to how in demand his time could be now that they had completed Inception. Still, anything that dealt with the criminal world had the possibility of going sour simply due to the nature of the beast.

Arthur had gotten out of Paris as quick as he could after packing what essentials he needed and sending the brief text to Eames as soon as he managed to find a burner phone. He had quickly gotten rid of that phone as well and made his way to Germany where he'd sent Eames coordinates to.

He'd managed to only patch the wound up enough that blood didn't soak through his shirt during the train ride from Paris to Berlin. After all, there was nothing subtle about bleeding on a train from a bullet wound. Thankfully, the bullet hadn't hit anything major but that didn't make it hurt any less.

Which was why, after getting in town and stocking up on first aid supplies, Arthur was standing in front of the mirror with tweezers, a bottle of whiskey and gauze. His soiled shirt currently strewn into the tub, waiting to be burned.

He was waiting for his hands to stop shaking (probably due to the adrenaline and slight blood loss) so he could get on with it when he heard a rather loud knock on the door. "Fuck," he growled, hoping it wasn't some nosy neighbor. Doubtful as most of his neighbors didn't exactly know him from Adam. Which was exactly what he preferred.

Arthur's pants rode low on his hips as he threw on a cleaner shirt. Hopefully the blood wouldn't show in the time it took to get rid of whoever it was at the door. It was only after he checked the peep hole that he exhaled a slow breath and unlocked the double lock then opened the door.

"It's damn good to see you."

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Arthur knew Eames better than anyone. Absolutely better than anyone else. It was frightening on so many levels, scary to know none that well, and yet he wouldn't want it to be any other way. He wanted all that they shared, even if it was the dark and the bad. Like this.

His fingers brushed against Arthur's shoulder before he reached for the alcohol, medical not and not liquor. "I know you do, and you know I'll always be here," he said, tones hard and serious and the absolute truth.

"I won't lie. We both know this is going to hurt. Please, know. I'm not trying to hurt you." He didn't want to, but it would get worse if he didn't do this now. "Lean over a bit so I can clean the wound."

Arthur nodded, having had no doubt about that whatsoever. "I know," he said, looking at him.

"Oh, before you start, will you go grab a belt for me from the room or give me yours? I rather not bite down on my lip if I can help it." Or his tongue or any other part of his mouth. It was better safe than sorry if you asked him. He was already in some pain. He didn't need to add onto that.

"Just get it over quickly," he said, looking at him before doing as Eames asked. It was going to burn and hurt like hell but he couldn't leave it in and at least having the second set of hands here would make it go quicker. At least that was the hope.

Eames nodded, setting down the bottle of alcohol he was going to pour over it with a nod. Unbuckling his belt, he pulled it off carefully not to hit either of them with it before handing the leather to Arthur.

"You need me to stop, say so. You can have breaks, but that's it. We're going to make sure this is done and take care of you." In the end that would be the most important thing, to make sure that Arthur was well taken care of in all of this and was able to heal.

"I will do it as quick as I can, and make sure it's clean." He wouldn't rush it and risk a bad job or scars later, but he wouldn't drag this out and hurt Arthur more than he had to. "Say it when you're ready."

Arthur couldn't help but watch Eames' movements as he undid his belt. Any other day and Arthur would love the sight before him. With the amount of pain his was in now, his libido was on the back burner. He nodded in response to Eames' words and took the leather from him. Truly, he appreciated the care Eames was taking for him. Normally, Arthur was left to his own hands and skills to stitch himself up. It was nice to have someone else there this time.

He placed the belt in his mouth then gave Eames a nod, letting him know he was ready.

It was a familiar motion, yet never in a situation like this. Not when his panic was over weighing everything else between them. It wouldn't matter how sexy the motion could be if Arthur got sick. His health mattered more than anything.

Getting the needle ready, he poured alcohol over the needle to ensure it was truly disinfected. Infection might still happen, but they would do the best they could.

"We can get you antibiotics later. I know a person that can get it for me." A nurse he'd spent time with, but thankfully parted from on good terms.

Taking a breath, he put the needle to skin and pushed through for the first stitch.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Arthur focused his breathing as he waited for the first push of the needle. His hands clenched on the counter as Eames worked on the wood. He would respond about the antibiotics but he was focusing right now on simply breathing and biting as hard as he can on the belt.

Getting stitches without a numbing agent always sucked but he had to say, Eames was efficient (as always).

In.

Out.

He would not pass out just yet. Later. Much later. After the pills. And more whiskey.

They both kept the same laser focus. Not on the skin, the pain, the blood. Just on each in and out stroke of the needle as it pierced skin. Just focusing on the way the thread closed the skin, saving Arthur's life and maybe, just maybe, leaving the tiniest of scars. No, likely a decent one, but Eames was trying.

"I promise I won't mock you if you pass out," he murmured in a low voice, trying to distract Arthur as best he could.

Despite having done this a few times on himself and others, it didn't get any easier or any less painful. It didn't matter at this point if it scarred. It was what it was and when you get shot? You prepare for a scar.

His mouth twitched as Eames promised to not mock him should he passed out. He would have responded had there not been a belt in his mouth but rest assure, he had retorts.

Considering how his hands and shook before answering that door, it would have been ten times harder to do this himself. Though, he would have gotten it done. Just would have taken much longer.

Eames was glad his hands weren't shaking. Glad he could do this without drawing back when Arthur flinched. He hated hurting him, because no matter what they've been through, he never wanted him harmed.

Especially not at his hands.

So he worked carefully until both sides were secured, closed, but with a tiny spot for drainage, to hope that it healed from the inside out and never developed an infection.

Ships Passing [12] for Artful

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Ahaha and we'll just say they got the bullet out because... yeah. I kind of forgot that part. :D

through and through lol?