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Eames saw the tell-tale flush about 15 minutes before Arthur started truly acting drunk.
He knew he wasn’t exactly one to be talking right now. Ariadne had insisted on drinks this evening in the warehouse and they were all feeling the effects of it by now. Eames was no exception, several beers in and solidly tipsy. Maybe even fully drunk. The world had taken on the pleasant blur it always got when he’d been drinking, a warm haze settling into his brain. He wasn’t quite drunk enough yet that he’d regret it in the morning, but he knew he was far from sober. So making comments about someone else’s inebriation probably wasn’t the best idea. People in glass houses and all.
Drunk Arthur was a sight to behold, though, and Eames couldn’t help his excitement once he noticed the flush. There was an easily predictable process- first Arthur got flushed, then he started gesturing, then he started trying to explain things in ways that rarely ever made much sense. Eames had seen the process play out many times over the years and he never tired of it, loving the sight of Arthur loosened up and without a care in the world. He held himself with such careful precision and control normally and seeing that veneer slip was something Eames treasured each time it happened, even more so when he was drunk as well.
It wasn’t long after the gesturing and slightly incoherent explanation about the math behind Klein bottle started that Arthur started gravitating towards Eames’ seat. This was part of the process too, at least whenever Eames was around. Sometimes it was slow, other times it happened quickly, but Arthur always seemed to find his way over to Eames before the evening was through regardless of who else they were with. Eames supposed it was only natural right now, considering he was the only one fully listening to what Arthur was saying. Ariadne was clearly trying to listen to Arthur’s explanation but kept getting sidetracked to try and keep Dom from bursting into drunken tears, and Yusuf and Saito had gotten lost in their own conversation off to the side. Eames, however, was perfectly content to give his whole attention to Arthur, even if he wasn’t entirely sure what Arthur was talking about by this point.
“And it all started with Möbius, though it was actually …shit, what was his name?” Arthur frowned, staring down at the table while moving his hand in an absentminded circle as he tried to think. “It started with an L…Li…Lis…Listing!” He snapped his fingers, looking up with a triumphant smile. “Johann Listing! He came up with the idea first, but didn’t publish on it until after Möbius had, so everyone assumes it was Möbius who first came up with it. But it wasn’t. ”
Eames rested his chin in his hand, watching Arthur with a smile. He’d already taken his jacket off and his tie was loose enough that his collar was barely keeping it in place, but Arthur didn’t seem to care in the slightest. “Well, that doesn’t sound very fair.”
“It’s not!” Arthur gestured broadly. “It’s such…such…bullshit! Do you have any idea how many people have been cheated out of recognition because of shit like that? By assholes like…like fuckin’ Edison! ”
Eames couldn’t help but grin. He’d heard Arthur’s rant about Thomas Edison several times by now, both sober and drunk, but he saw no reason not to listen to it again. “Oh?”
“God, he was such a bigoted bastard who stole credit he didn’t deserve for so many things.”
Arthur was leaning heavily towards Eames now, his gesturing seeming to knock him off balance slightly, and Eames rested his hand on Arthur’s side to try and steady him. Arthur leaned into the contact a little too much, nearly sliding out of his seat. Eames laughed and moved his chair forward to keep Arthur upright, already looking forward to the increased contact he knew would come with it; as much as he loved the entire process of Arthur getting drunk, this was by far his favourite part. “Careful there, love, or you’ll end up on the floor.”
Eames would never describe Arthur’s laugh as a giggle- Arthur would maybe shoot him if he ever did that- but it was close. “I’m fine, I’ll be fine.” He closed the remaining space between them until he was sitting more on Eames’ lap than he was his own chair. It wasn’t a particularly coordinated movement, but Eames was more than happy to help. “Just a little…little unsteady, that’s all.”
Eames shifted Arthur so that he was in a bit more stable of a position. “How’s that?”
Arthur moved easily in Eames’ hands, leaning against his chest with a happy hum. “Perfect.”
“Now,” Eames rested a hand on Arthur’s hip, “what were you saying about Edison being a bastard?”
Arthur immediately started back in on his rant, Eames keeping him steady as he continued to gesture vehemently. It wasn’t long before Arthur’s arm was draped around Eames’ shoulders- whether it was for comfort, balance, or just because Eames wasn’t sure, nor did he particularly care. All he cared about was the warm line of contact as Arthur settled onto his lap.
He tried to listen to what Arthur was saying, he really did. Arthur’s rants were generally both entertaining and informative, and Eames legitimately wanted to pay attention. It was hard to focus, though, with the feeling of Arthur against him vying for his attention as well. It was wonderful, mixing with the warm fuzziness of the alcohol in his system until he nearly felt lightheaded, but it made following what Arthur was saying difficult. When Arthur started absentminded running his hand through Eames’ hair a few minutes later, Eames gave up, letting himself get lost in the feeling. Being this close to Arthur was always intoxicating, even without alcohol already in his system, and there was no use in trying to fight it anymore.
Arthur’s rant slowly died down from broad, vehement gestures and into a quieter stream mostly mumbled into the crook of Eames’ neck. He was a wonderful shade of pink now too; part of it was the alcohol but Eames knew most of it was from the hand Eames had rested on the inside of his thigh, his other hand still resting on Arthur’s hip. Eames could feel the occasional brush of lips against his neck as Arthur talked, not quite kisses but enough to send a shiver down his spine. They wouldn’t stay at the warehouse much longer. Maybe a few minutes, but that would be it. They hadn’t been part of the conversation with anyone else for a while now and he knew no one would miss them if they slipped out, if any of them even noticed in the first place. And, if the ghosting brushes of Arthur’s lips against his skin that were quickly becoming actual kisses were anything to go by, a cab back to the hotel was going to be necessary before long.
Ariadne caught Eames’ eye as he stood up a few minutes later. She raised her eyebrows and he grinned in return. Maybe it should have been a more sheepish smile, he knew neither of them looked particularly dignified right now, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel even an ounce of embarrassment right now. Not with Arthur pressed against him, fingers slipping under the hem of his shirt. He gave Ariadne a small nod before heading towards the door, still grinning even as he turned away. The night air was cool as they both stepped out somewhat unsteadily onto the sidewalk, but Eames barely noticed; the combination of alcohol and Arthur draped across him made him feel warm in a way that had nothing to do with actual temperature, and he wouldn’t trade the feeling for anything in the world.