agentmpmorgan:

Mike had closed his eyes, trying to clear his thoughts. Trying to decide something. Did he love him? Could he love anyone? Was love even something that actually existed?

The ding of his phone going off brought him out of his thoughts. Looking down at his phone he saw it. I’m sorry.

He was sorry? For loving him? For saying it? Or maybe it had been a mistake. Maybe auto correct. He didn’t mean it maybe …

Mike stood up immediatly. He turned before he could change his mind and marched up to the door, banging on it.

That was it, then. He’d screwed up, he’d basically ran off the one good thing that had come out of the bombing at the Stark auction and there was nothing more that he could do. Eames knew that while he felt it for Mike that it wasn’t the right time for it. And it was something he should have done in person not over the damn mobile phone. At least Mombasa was waiting for him and he’d never have to return to the city again.

Walking towards the bedroom, he dropped his phone on the couch. He didn’t want to see anything that Mike would have sent. Eames already felt like a prat, he didn’t need it rubbed in. The banging on his door, on the other hand, had him thinking that maybe he hadn’t. Mike was supposed to be there shortly anyway and maybe he hadn’t bollocksed it all up like he thought. Covering the distance in a few short steps, he threw the door open, surprised to see Mike standing there.

“I thought – ” He didn’t bother to finish the statement before dragging Mike into his flat and kissing him like he’d promised him he would originally.