These days, Eames shifts wildly between annoyance at the things Arthur wants from him, sharp pangs of heartache that he can't just give them to him and the occasional soaring joy when what he does find in himself to give is not found lacking.

;sld;alksd I keep getting gut-punched by lines like this, HOW DO YOU DO THIS THING every time? I just want to gather Eames up and hug him, because of course it's not lacking! OH EAMES.