Hurt Comfort Meme

[jading]

Hurt/Comfort - Hurt/comfort
is a fan fiction genre that involves the physical pain or emotional
distress of one character, who is cared for by another character. The
injury, sickness or other kind of hurt allows an exploration of the
characters and their relationship.

- Post with Character Name | Series in the subject.
- Others respond.
- Roll 1-10 at RNG for a scene, play it out and have fun!

1. INJURY. You've been injured. Broken bones or bleeding out or maybe just a tiny little papercut. The choice is yours.
2. SICKNESS. You're sick and laid up in bed, at home or in a hospital. The severity is up to you.
3. FEAR/ANXIETY. Something is happening and you're scared beyond belief.
4. LOSS OF SENSES. Sight, touch, taste, hearing, smell, etc. You've lost some important sense or ability and now you're left to deal with it.
5. DESPAIR. Nothing is good or right anymore and you can't shake the depression. Maybe that friend of yours can help though...
6. BREAKUP. You've been dumped. You need someone to comfort you, possibly by the one who dumped you.
7. MAKE UP. Fight or break up, it's time to makeup.
8. RESCUED. You've just been held captived and/or tortured for however long and finally, someone has come to the rescue.
9. BAD ROMANCE. Fight, cheated on, abused, whatever the case s, someone else can clearly see
you need comfort from someone who isn't your terrible lover tonight.
10. LOSS. You've experience a loss of some kind and need help getting through it.

Nabbed from hoohaw

Comments

[ex_specificities791]

Yeah, all right. [ The words are slurring together a little; he's almost asleep, warm and relaxed. So long as he keeps his eyes closed and doesn't move, he feels fine, comfortable even.

So he doesn't move, and a bit later, his breathing evens out when he falls asleep. ]

[imaginitive]

[Eames notes when he falls asleep, but stays where he is, content in just relaxing there. There was no rush on the job or anything that needed to be done that day. Besides watching the train wreck that was on the telly was amusing enough.]

[ex_specificities791]

[ Arthur wakes an indeterminate amount of time later. His head feels like it's wrapped in cotton but no longer hurts, and he's warm. Sitting up slowly, his hair sticking up every which way.

Befuddled: ] Eames?

[imaginitive]

[He's in the middle of watching some inane reality show, pondering how people have the time to care about this when Arthur finally wakes up. Most of the nap, Eames either paced, was on the phone, or attempting to see what was on the television.

He turns his head and looks over.] I'm here, Arthur.

[ex_specificities791]

[ Turning towards Eames, frowning a little. ]

I thought I'd dreamt that.

[imaginitive]

No. [He looks back at the television.] You asked, I stayed. I could make myself scarce if you need me to.

[ex_specificities791]

[ Rubbing a hand over his face. ] No, that's all right. [ A beat. ] Thanks.

How long was I out?

[imaginitive]

Two hours or so. [He looks at the clock. He's playing this a lot more nonchalant now that Arthur doesn't look like death warmed over.] Do you feel any better?

[ex_specificities791]

Yeah. I don't know what those pills where [ And he'll examine later what that means, that he blindly swallowed pills Eames gave him, that he trusted Eames to take care of him, to see him like that. He has a feeling he already knows, though. ] but they helped.

[imaginitive]

[There's a moment when his smile is genuine and he just looks at Arthur.]

You're welcome.

[ex_specificities791]

[ Arthur can't bring himself to look away— until he starts coughing, pressing one hand against his chest in a futile attempt to alleviate the pressure there. ]

Well. [ As dry as he can, though the effect is rather ruined by how rough his voice sounds now. ] They helped with everything but that, apparently.

[imaginitive]

If you need me to run out for cough suppressant, it isn't a trouble. [He's not going to question why he cares this much. Part of him while use the excuse that he's his Point, but it doesn't matter. Eames isn't about to go delving into his own emotions. Not yet. He knows what he's doing and he's acting on his wants.

There are risks to this, but when aren't there in life?]

[ex_specificities791]

I hate this. [ Stated matter-of-factly. It's as close as Arthur will allow himself to come to whining.

Getting up, taking a moment to steady himself once he's standing, before making his way to his suitcase and pulling out a sweater to pull on, before sitting back down on the bed.

He may have an idea as to his own feelings, but Eames' motivation is a different matter altogether. It may well be possible that Eames is only helping him out because it means Arthur will owe him one, but— Arthur doesn't think that is it. Still: ] You don't need to.

[imaginitive]

[He looks over and nods.]

If that's what you want.

[ex_specificities791]

I want to not be sick.

[imaginitive]

I can't work miracles, love.

[ex_specificities791]

Didn't think so. [ Sighing. ] What did it say, how often am I supposed to take those pills of yours?

[imaginitive]

Every four hours for a three days.

[ex_specificities791]

[ Dragging a hand over his face. ] This isn't gonna go away over night, is it?

[imaginitive]

[He flatly looks at him.] You're lucky I didn't take you to a hospital.

[ex_specificities791]

[ Settling the blankets over his shoulders again. Eames has already seen him like this, after all, and he is getting colder again. ] It's not that bad.

[imaginitive]

You were burning up. You're much better now, but you don't look like a bloody mess.

[ex_specificities791]

You used to be much more flattering. [ That just slipped out; it's a little amused and a lot bemused. ]

[imaginitive]

[That just makes him smile.] Right. And back to your cutting wit. You are feeling better.

[ex_specificities791]

[ It takes Arthur a moment before he can bring himself to look away, an answering smile tugging at his lips. ] I am.

[ Of course, those words only lead to a coughing fit. ]