Did I just remember I had plenty of asks from the Make-Me-Write game that I did two months ago? Yes 😭 I apologize for the wait but here it is, I finally sat down to write after my brain decided my other WIPs weren't to his liking </3
Now, as I remember the quick summary I did for this emoji was something like "Paddy can't reconcile the man he's become with the man he believes Eoin deserves now that Eoin's back, and Eoin has a kinky way of fixing things". So. That is the plot of the fic, and perhaps you wanted the smut part but, sadly for everyone, I think we're in for.. at least 8k of more plot before we reach the smut 😭😅 So please allow me to make amends with my favorite gentleman, Jim Almonds <3
Thank you to you, @amiserableseriesofevents @air-exec @miggleverse and a kind Anon for sending more or less of this emoji ❤️ Here are your combined 34 sentences <33
Jim Almonds expected many things when he was taken a prisoner of war. Finding Eoin McGonigal isn't one of them. And yet, here he is, sat on the edge of a thin mattress in a room too small for one man let alone two, this lad that they've lost more than a year ago but whose absence had loomed larger than war itself. His hair is overgrown, and though Jim can't see him very well in the dim light of the room, it seems like he's grown a bit of a beard. Disbelief squeezing at his heart, Jim can't say a word. Instead, he steps shakily in the room, and Eoin's head snaps towards the sound, wide-eyed and pale before his face furrows.
He sounds exactly how Jim feels, confusion and disbelief wrapping tight around hope, like it's a precious resource that ought not be wasted. But hope is like sunlight, shining through the tiniest of gaps, and Jim laughs breathlessly as he steps forward again. Like a mirror, Eoin slowly rises, and Jim can't help drawing him in a hug; he may have only known Eoin for a few months before his disappearance, the man had always been a bright spot of joy and competence in their isolated corner of the desert, and losing him had been the SAS' first heartbreak. Eoin tenses for a moment, arms limp at his side before he hesitantly returns the embrace, a wounded sound that has Jim tightening his hold on him escaping his throat.
It's been almost a year and a half since the SAS had declared Eoin McGonigal missing in action. And yet, here is now, shoulders shaking as he burrows into Jim like a child seeking shelter from a storm, and Jim doesn't need to ask if Eoin's met with any familiar faces in those eighteen months. Silently, he cups Eoin's nape with his head and doesn't move, letting the younger man sag against him for however long he needs, even as Jim winces when he can feel the sharpness of Eoin's ribs against his torso. Seconds trickle by slowly before Eoin seems to regain control of himself; no longer shaking, he clears his throat once before he steps out of Jim's arms, eyes downcast as though asamed to have needed the comfort.
"It's good to see you, Eoin," Jim says hoarsely. He had always called Eoin "sir" before but it just doesn't feel right to face a man in a POW camp after you've believed him dead for more than a year and greet him with anything other than his name. A small smile twitches on Eoin's lips as he steps back, sniffling just slightly as he wipes at his eyes.
"And you, Jim." Eoin's eyes flicker up and down his face like he still can't quite believe it before he frowns, eyes lost somewhere above Jim's shoulder. "Is Paddy with you?"
"No," Jim shakes his head, almost apologetic—a POW camp might be the last place he wants Paddy to be in, but he has a feeling Paddy might disagree if he learns who's waiting for him there. But Eoin must misunderstand his tone because he pales considerably, staggering back like he's been shot.
"He's alive," Jim rushes to say, steadying Eoin with sure hands. God, but he can wrap his hand fully around the man's biceps. With a soft touch, he guides Eoin to sit on the edge of the bunk before sitting on the opposite bed once he's certain Eoin won't fall over. "But we thought—," he swallows with difficulty. "We thought you were dead, lad." Eoin's shoulders drop, a defeated frown pulling at his lips. Fate couldn't have been crueler to them, Jim thinks.
Jim pauses, suddenly unsure on how to best word the damage grief and loss have caused.
"He's still looking for you," he settles on, because it's true. In the jambled notes of Für Elise, and perhaps in every poem he reads, Paddy's always reached out with bloody hands for a glimpse of the boy he thought lost to the desert. "He hasn't let you go."
And thank you to @johntonkin and @revolutionarybillfraser for helping me with figuring out Jim and Eoin's height difference (apparently inexistent which fits me lol) <3
