Conception (Inception, Arthur/Eames)

Arthur can’t quite figure out why he’s so lucky, not when he’s covered in blood, most of it not his own, and his ears are ringing so bad he can hardly hear. He’s injured. He’s self-aware enough to know that, but not much beyond that. The exact where is eluding him, though it must not be that badly or he’d be with Cobb and… Vincent… Edgar? The other man’s name escapes him, but if his injuries were worse then he’d be with them, getting patched up, not… here.

The sound of water running is enough to give him some focus. Bathroom. Not a very good bathroom, or a very clean one. It has a vague motel look, definitely not the one he’d been staying at, likely somewhere in the lower end of Rabat. Eames is in front of him. Somehow, out of all the chaos, Eames is fine, unruffled, not even a scratch on him. Eames had driven him here. Eames had lent Arthur his coat, likely ruined now, to hide the blood as they walked in, with Eames carrying both their bags.

Arthur shivers as his shirt is pulled away. It sticks against parts of his arms and Eames croons softly at him as he pulls it away, pealing it gently off of wounded skin. Arthur barely feels the pain, or the cold. His gaze drifts. He slumps forward and Eames is there to catch him, propping Arthur’s head on his shoulder while he unfastens Arthur’s belt. Water slowly fills the tub.

Eames stands, taking Arthur reluctantly with him. He leans against Eames, unable to support his weight on his own and at the moment not caring where the support comes from. Eames is warm against his skin, and Arthur feels far too cold.