#crying tw

Puppy love

Colt called after him as he left at a brisk pace, but all the gloved fists colliding with the punching bags reminded his ears of shots, and suddenly, he was back there, where he didn't want to be. The planes, the bombs they brought with them, and all the death they left in their wake. All the brutal details were flooding back, and they may as well have grabbed him by the damn throat, throttled him even, he would've preferred that to the carnage currently replaying in his head. The only saving grace he could find was that Mad Dog hadn't been around to hound him with insults, taunts, and whatever other verbal garbage he could come up with. On good days, he ignored all of it, not giving the cocky bastard any satisfaction that what he said had any impact, and on bad days, a death glare seemed like it was permanently etched into his eyes, and he wouldn't notice the pain caused by his tightly clinched jaw until he left, he wasn't sure what he'd do if his rival saw him like this, probably give into the urge to punch him as soon as he opened his stupid mouth for once, like used he to when his older brother's friends pushed too far, as far as they were concerned he was a babysitting job despite being three years younger than Brendan. Those same violent urges only plagued him outside of the cage now, he knew he had his father's temper and it fucking terrified him.

Finally, after walking the route with stiff muscle memory, he reached home. He threw his gym bag down on the floor without much thought, getting to the living room with a stumble here and there. He had to strip his hoodie off as fast as he could to escape the growing feeling of suffocation, not at all registering where it and his tank top landed when he threw them. A shrill whine made him look up, Teddy was sitting in the doorway, and with another whine, he voiced his opinion on the lack of attention he was receiving rather loudly. "Sup, bro." Tommy croaked out, slowly processing the feeling of wettest running down his cheeks. The pudgy fawn and white colored bulldog snorted, stood up, and waddled his way to the couch. He gave Tommy a defeated look after his only attempt to climb up into the seat failed. "Spoiled..." Tommy murmured but still willed his limbs to corporate with his brain long enough to lift Teddy into his lap nonetheless. Teddy's pink tongue poked out as he licked the salty tears from Tommy's face. Tommy wrapped the bulldog in a hug, kissing the top of his head as Teddy's presence seemed to calm his heart rate. Teddy was happy to stay right where he was as Tommy pressed his face into his back and cuddled him. The sound of a bag dropping to the floor made Tommy lift his head, and you briefly ran a hand through his hair as you rounded the back of the couch. "Rough day?" You asked, and Tommy nodded meekly. Lady and the Tramp was playing on the TV almost as soon as you picked up the remote. You sat down next to Tommy and kissed his cheek before curling up to his side and laying your head on his shoulder, prompting him to lay his against yours. You and Teddy had every intent to say there for as long as Tommy needed you to be.

Meet the baker.

The flooring creaked under the heavy, uneven footsteps accompanied by a cane, hugging your knees tighter to your chest as the sounds approached the counter, excepting only terrible things to come. "Look at me." A gruff voice commanded. Slowly lifting your head made every nerve scream, blinking away blinding tears. The bearded man's eyes softened as he moved them over you, "Well, now look what you sods have gone and bloody done." He snapped, addressing the room with a wave of his hand. "Come on, love." He reached down, taking your hand gently in his, coaxing you to your feet and ushering you outside. "I greatly apologize for all this, I seem to have sorely underestimated the competence of my men." He said, raising his voice for the part about competence as he glanced at the door.

"I beg your pardon," you finally said, finally satisfied enough that you weren't going to be harmed, "but what the fuck is going on?". The man stared at you for a moment, before his features broke into a smile, "Fuckin' hell," he chuckled, "would you look at the mouth on this one." He said looking around as if there were others around you. "If you must know, love," He began, glancing up and down the streets with one side of his mouth quirked up in amusement, "You're speaking with one of the most wanted men in Camden." He said in a low gruff voice. You took a step back and looked him over, "You don't look very scary." You said now that you could get a better look at him under the streetlamp. "Ah, but looks can be quite deceiving," he mused, "my mum was a prime example. The most dangerous animal known to man is a woman, sitting quietly, with a smile on her face." He said with an extravagant gesture. "Or my... bakery." He added, almost like it came out before he could stop himself. "You're a baker?" You asked with a raised brow, trying to picture the man that just forced his way into the shop you worked at in an apron. "A baker that specializes in a very specific kind of bread." He smiled wolfishly, pausing for a moment as a thought danced across his mind, and he offered a hand to you.

"Care for some... samples?"

Don't leave me

"Is that yours?!" Eames exclaimed, rushing to pull out of the line of fire. Your tears fell onto the camouflage uniform that he had replaced his suit with, nodding as your hand found the growing patch of warm red liquid. "Ian," you began, then everything went dark. The ding of the elevator brought him back to his senses. Though the memory was still stuck on repeat in the back of his mind, the sensations still lingered on his skin. Arthur patted his shoulder in support, "Want me to wait in the hallway?" He asked as they approached the door. "Would you.." Eames started quietly. "I'm right here if you need anything." Eames was almost thankful when Arthur cut him off and made the decision for him. He took a deep breath to steal his resolve and entered the hospital room. "Ian?..." You murmured in a quiet voice. "Oh, Darling...." Eames quite quickly lost his resolve and rushed to kneel by your bedside and grip your hand like his life depended on it. "I'm alright..." You said softly, with a slightly painful smile as you reached up to wipe away a tear with your thumb that he didn't realize had fallen.

"You scared the life out of me...." he whispered, bringing your knuckles to his lips with a trembling hand. "I know..... I don't know where that bullet came from, it just.... it was like it appeared out of nowhere." You murmured, the end almost came out as a whimper, Eames moved to press his forehead to yours. "Please don't leave me...." he pleaded in a whisper that sounded almost painful for him. You pulled him into your arms, careful to avoid aggravating your injuries, and held your husband as tightly as you could.