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Eames sighs drowsily, rolling over towards the warmth and weight of the other body in his bed. He blinks in befuddlement when it isn't Arthur, too broad and soft and curly-haired to be Arthur, then casts his memory back to the night before. He sits up a bit, looking around the room for the rest of his clothes, then rolls back the other way to look under the edge of the bed. He finds his jacket on the floor and fishes around the pockets for his phone, then settles back into his pillow as he pulls up Arthur's number, picking at a loose eyelash as he does so.
The first bars of Radiohead's “Bodysnatchers”, Arthur's current ring-tone for Eames, drift in from somewhere outside the bedroom, probably from the pot of the banana plant behind the sofa where Eames dimly remembers hiding Arthur's phone last night when they got home. The song plays for almost a minute without Arthur answering the phone, cursing Eames for hiding it, or giving any sign of presence in the otherwise quiet apartment, so Eames ends the call and tries Ariadne instead.
“Hello, gorgeous,” he says when she answers, quite aware of how his sleep-stuck throat makes his voice extra husky and sexy. “I just rolled over and found your boyfriend in bed with me. Is mine at your house, by any chance?”
“He's making me breakfast. Do you want him back?”
Eames smiles. “Eventually, yes, but there's no rush. I just wanted to make sure he was in good hands.”
Ariadne's smiling back, he can hear it in her voice. “You two looked so cute cuddled up together, we decided it was better not to disturb you. We left a note on the coffee table.”
“I hadn't yet bothered to fight my way free of the duvet to check. We were cuddling?”
“When we left, yeah.”
“Funny I don't remember that.”
“You crashed early,” Ariadne yawns. “After your big day of running and punching.”
“I remember that part.” Eames examines his abraded knuckles. “Quite vividly.”
“I think you must have already been asleep when Yusuf decided he wanted a nap, then. Anyway, Arthur and I stayed up talking for a while longer, and then when we saw how late it was and went in to check on you, you were all curled up together like a pair of sleepy kittens.”
“Hm. That would explain why we're both almost fully clothed.” Contemplating the morning wood straining his rumpled trousers, Eames glances over at Yusuf and licks his lips. “You don't mind if I do something to correct that, do you?”
“Not if he doesn't. I mean, it would be only fair.”
“Quite. Well, give Arthur a kiss from me, on whatever part of his anatomy you feel is most in need of one. And enjoy your breakfast.”
“You too.”
“Ciao, darling.”
Eames drops the phone on the pile of clothes on the floor and rolls back to Yusuf, snuggling up behind him and planting a kiss on his shoulder. “Good morning,” he purrs as Yusuf twitches and blinks up at him, his sleepy face slowly warming into a smile.