Simon and Eames, Backdated to July 29th

[om_touchstone]

Eames takes Simon out for some anger management, Eames-style. Curiously enough, it helps.

Eames wasn't keeping tabs on Simon's distant beau, but he came across the sordid speculation during a general social media skim. Tabloids in general were a great place to catch up on faulty information. Eames timed it so that it should be the end of Simon's shift before showing up in the infirmary carrying a canvas bag.

"Hello, love," he greeted. "May I steal you when you're off the clock? I promise I'm not sick or injured."

It had been a couple of days since Simon had received news from Jean-Paul that they would be pulling the trigger on his boyfriend's cover. That the media would have hold of images of him and Jack kissing. At first, it had been frustrating and infuriating. Simon's knuckles were still a little discolored from where he'd socked Jack after the other teen had the nerve to 'see if he was okay.'

But the frustration and irritation and anger had simmered into a cold numbness, allowing him to at least get his work done and start his first few days of classes. That's why, when Eames ambushed him coming out of the infirmary, he didn't deck the shapeshifter as well. Instead, he kept walking, assuming that Eames would fall into step beside him. "What do you need?"

Eames lifted the bag and it jangled quietly. "I'm working on am art project. I was hoping you would help me smash these into small fragments." Eames only did subtlety when he needed to. "What do you say?"

Simon did stop at that, turning an unamused look on his friend. "I don't need to smash things like a three year old having a tantrum, Eames. It happened. It needed to happen. I don't like it, but there's not much I can do about that without endangering the man I care about."

Eames raised a brow. "I respect that, but I still need fragments for this project. You up for helping me anyway? I won't even suggest picturing people's faces on the bottles. It can just be some glass."

"You do realize that I am juggling med school, infirmary duties, my work for Moira, as well as everything else in my life, right?" Simon inquired rhetorically.

"So what you're saying is you'd prefer a long nap, but you're humoring me because of my winning personality?" Eames translated with a small smile. In a less jesting tone Eames added, "I won't be around quite so often anymore, so if you have the time to spare I would like spending it with you. Your call, darling. I can be very persistent, but I am ever your humble shapeshifter."

Simon hesitated, frowning slightly. "You won't be around so often? What does that mean?"

"I have a second residence in the city. I'll be here with Arthur some of the time, but we can't cohabit in such a tiny space forever without awkward murder charges." Eames waved a hand. "And things. Stuff to do. Art to create. People to meet. Parties to crash. Worlds to discover."

His friend sighed softly, then looked at the bag again. "I need to change into something more comfortable. Where should I meet you?"

"Front drive? Long stretch of very sturdy pavement to smash things against. Unless of course you need a hand." He winked. He hoped by this point Simon would recognize that as a jest, since the days of pining after him were long dashed.

Simon gave him a look, then a nod, and headed toward the lift. "I'll see you there."

***

While Eames was waiting he'd taken the glass bottles and assorted objects out of the bag and lined them up on a ledge where they were easy to reach. He wasn't lying about the art project, but the only reason he'd thought it up was because he figured Simon might enjoy a good smashing. When Simon rejoined him he handed him the first bottle. "After you."

Simon studied the bottle in his hand. "I'd figured you might have some kind of bat available."

But Eames wanted him to do this, and Simon figured it might at least be somewhat cathartic. With a downward swing of his arm, he lobbed the bottle into the driveway, glad he'd seen a broom nearby. They would have to be thorough, to make sure the splinters didn't get stuck in someone's tires.

Eames hadn't even given thought to a bat. "Ooh, good idea. Next time."

Listening to the glass shatter felt quite a bit better than Simon had thought it would, and before Eames had truly finished what he was saying, Simon had reached for the next, this time putting a great deal more emphasis behind his lob.

Eames stepped back, giving Simon more swinging room. He grabbed one of the farther bottles, ready to supply it when they grew out of easy reach.

The sound of glass shattering spooked the nearby birds and animals into silence, especially as it grew more violent. By the fourth thrown bottle, there was fire in Simon's eyes, and he relished the angry, cacophonous sound of the breakage.

He'd taken all of them from the ledge and two or three from Eames' hands before he slowed, then stopped, dropping to a crouch to set the champagne bottle in his hand upright on the driveway's surface. Dropping his head, he sighed quietly.

Eames sighed, surveying Simon's handiwork with a small smile. Were this anyone else he would have probably put a hand on his shoulder or touched him in some way, but as this was Simon Eames didn't want to jar him. He gave him a moment before moving quietly to grab the broom.

"Thank you," Eames said softly.

Simon finally rose to his feet. "What for?"

"Your help. Also for accepting my eccentric propositions." He smiled fondly.

"You need to work on your subtlety," Simon snorted softly.

"I save subtlety for special occasions."

"That doesn't surprise me," Simon murmured, carefully starting to collect larger pieces of glass. "I suppose you saw the blogs."

Eames went to grab the bucket he'd set aside for the remnants so that they could make clean work of it. "I did. Color me unimpressed."

"Harkness is his contact. They needed a cover. I never thought, when I agreed to it, that they'd be seen in public, let alone have pictures snapped. But I'm not sure I could have stopped them even if I'd known," Simon told him, patiently and quietly picking up each piece to drop into the bucket.

Eames mulled that over before sighing. "I can't say I wouldn't do similar as a means to an end, but before going that route of cover stories at least I've gotten Arthur's consent. There's a key piece missing. Also, that's the easiest excuse to use, but not the easiest mess to clean up."

"After that show with the bottles, I'm not sure I could believably express to you that I'm okay with it," Simon snorted softly.

"Both you and Jean-Paul are far too passionate for me to believe if, my dear. As buttoned up as you appear, you are much more than what's at the surface." Eames dropped some glass delicately into the bucket. "And considering how jealous your beau is, I am amazed he didn't expect murder."

Simon made a small face. "I hit him. Harkness. Not Jean-Paul."

Eames grinned. "Simon Tam, you have never been hotter."

That prompted a disapproving look and a rub of his own bruised knuckles. "No. I shouldn't be resorting to violence. Especially not in the field I'm going into."

"I think you get a pass at least once. Better before you leave the privacy of the school, right?"

"Perhaps," Simon was still frowning, but he sighed too. "It did feel good."

"One slip in your restraint will not kill you," Eames murmured. "Not here, not now. Best you got it out of your system and after a constructive talk with Jean-Paul hopefully you'll have better means to take out your frustration." Gently, he added, "But if it does get bad watching the false media, you should tell him. You don't have to accept this solution. We are too creative to be stuck with one option."

Simon snorted. "It's not just the media. It's people on the street. It's my classmates at Yale. It's just...not something I expected. But no matter how much it bothers me, I wouldn't make Jean-Paul stop. He needs this. We all need this."

"Would a female handler cut down on the rumor mill?" Eames asked curiously. "Or is this just his life."

"How is he supposed to explain him constantly meeting with a girl away from the base?" Simon asked.

"The desire to have friends. An activity that doesn't have to do with work. Someone helping him with his questionable PR. A shopping buddy. These are just my first thoughts, but I swear there are reasons to spend time with people other than shagging."

Simon gave Eames a look. "Not to disparage my boyfriend, but he's not exactly open to having a lot of friends."

Eames shook his head. "He's trapped in Canada with a band of flag bespeckled mutants. He might be allowed one friend, under the circumstances."

"If it will ease your mind, I'll try to talk to him about it, but honestly, they've already established the cover. There's nothing that's going to erase the damage already done," Simon told him, finishing up with the largest pieces of glass.

This time Eames did reach over to Simon, touching his shoulder. "If it will ease your mind. Don't let me peer pressure you if it's not what you really want. I just want what's best for you."

Simon breathed out at the touch, relaxing at the contact a little. When he looked up, he smiled warily. "I just want it to be over."

"For your sake, I hope it is soon," Eames responded softly.

Meeting his gaze, Simon sighed. "You've always been there for me, when I run afoul of some kind of drama in our relationship."

"Didn't you get the memo?" Eames asked, a small smile curving his lips. "I'm your personal cheerleader. I've the short skirt and everything."

"And yet you put up with my boyfriend shunning you because of a mistake two years ago," Simon pointed out.

Eames considered that and then reached to touch Simon's cheek lightly, a fleeting gesture that would have been a kiss if Eames were in his other form. For some reason it giving him a peck on the cheek like this seemed inadvisable at the moment.

"I put up with Jean-Paul because of you. I've no time for grudges, and if he didn't make you happy I wouldn't, as you say, put up with him."

Simon laughed softly. "He does make me happy. When he's not driving me up a wall. And even then I can't help loving him."

"Then I'll keep playing relationship counselor now and then."

"Well I don't promise to be any good at it, but if you ever need the return favor, you know where to find me," Simon smiled, helping to sweep up the rest of the glass.

Eames laughed at that. "In regards to Arthur, I don't even think I'm very good at translating. I'm just lucky he puts up with me."

Simon gave a small shrug. "I might be a little better at translating Arthur. I think his wavelengths at least run more or less parallel to mine, if not always along the same track."

"Ah yes, that strange alien wavelength." Eames grinned.

That earned him a small snort, but Simon smiled and retrieved the bucket of glass. "Are we done with the smashing, then? I assume you have enough for your art project, or whatever other pretense you have created for helping me?"

He laughed. "I really am going to make an art piece with this," Eames promised. "And this is plenty for the mosaic."

Simon snorted softly, but smiled. "Glad I could help."