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The wind howls outside Eames’s house. It slams and scrapes tree branches against his windows and Eames isn’t entirely sure if he remembered to close the one in the kitchen. He really hopes his herb garden doesn’t suffer too badly. He blinks his eyes open, giving up on trying to get back to sleep, and blearily reads something that is either a three or an eight on his alarm clock. Whichever it is it’s far too early for Eames to be awake. He groans and rolls over, ready to fish around his bedside table for ear plugs to block out the howling.
His breath catches in his throat when he sees that Arthur is lying in bed next to him. Arthur, who is supposed to be in Bangkok right now. Arthur who should be on another desperate, depraved job with Cobb that is somehow supposed to bring him closer to coming home. Arthur, who is smiling at Eames and shifting closer.
“What are you doing here?” Eames whispers, he’s not quite sure why.
“I missed you,” Arthur says softly, moving in closer and wrapping an arm around Eames’s waist, rubbing a hand up Eames’s back and carding his fingers through Eames’s hair.
“I missed you too,” Eames murmurs, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead to Arthur’s. Arthur smells like rain and the outside and his hair is damp where it’s plastered against his forehead. “Shouldn’t you be-?”
“Shhh,” Arthur whispers.
Eames slides an arm around Arthur, holding their bodies flush together. Arthur tilts his head and kisses Eames. It’s gentle, and sweet, and Eames can’t remember the last time Arthur kissed him like this. It’s dizzying and intoxicating and Eames feels as if his heart might burst in his chest.
“Go back to sleep,” Arthur says, and Eames does.