forgerextraordinaire requested:

Before the year he spent 'dead' dreams were nonexistent, the somnacin having taken care of removing them. Now they were more of a problem than he'd ever imagined. This night his eyes shot open and his hand reached over to the small table to find the chip. Eames didn't know what he'd seen, just that it felt far too real for his likes. Once he determined he was awake and not in a dream, he rolled over and curled against Clint, needing the archer for comfort. Eventually it would pass. It had to.

ahawkeyesview:

ahawkeyesview:

Some nights were harder than others, but Clint never let on that he knew when Eames woke. He would roll over still pretending to be asleep and cuddled closer as if he was the needy one and would fall back asleep once Eames had. This time was a little different, the chip had been reached for, the tiny clack of it on the table and Eames moving closer roused the archer. He hummed and pressed a kiss to his lover’s head. “Eames you’re too hot, scoot over.” he teased, but wrapped his arms around the other tighter.

“Nothin’ to be sorry for..” he whispered, holding his lover tighter, “‘S gonna be alright, Eames. I’m here. I’m here.“ Clint reassured him and met his lips with a gentle kiss. "What can I do?” the archer asked, resting his head against the forger’s. It scared him because he had no idea what Eames was going through, knowing that it was obviously about the past, but nothing they’d really talked about yet and something the agent would never press. “Anything and it’s yours.”

“Just – just hold me for now,” he managed to say, even though he was still trying to force all of the images back into the darkest parts of his mind. Eames knew eventually all of this would return, that one day he would have to deal with everything that had happened while he was ‘dead’. But a part of him had hoped that it would just stay buried with everything else. “I’m sorry. Never wanted you t'see me like this. Shouldn’t have to. Stronger than this usually.” Having Clint there, though, was making him feel better, like the nightmare was slowly loosening its grip. Eventually he might even be able to go back to sleep. At that moment all he wanted was to hear the beating of the archer’s heart and feel his body against his own.

1. forgerextraordinaire reblogged this from ahawkeyesview and added:

   Having Clint run his hands through his hair was soothing; more so than just being held. Eames wasn’t about to tell him...

2. ahawkeyesview reblogged this from forgerextraordinaire and added:

   He held him close, running his fingers through his hair, trying to calm him. Clint knew how he felt after a nightmare...