Archive of Our Own ^beta

Arthur hasn't stopped scowling all day. It isn't a good day for him. Ariadne and Yusuf had teamed up and bothered him relentlessly because of it, and he was fit to strangle them when Cobb finally had enough of the seemingly dead-end case they were working on and sent everyone home early. Ever since being reunited with his children, Dominick Cobb has been much more relaxed. He laughs and smiles now, goes out for regular coffee trips, is more lenient with work hours and, above all else, has stopped seeing Mal everywhere he goes. Coming in to work isn't such a bad thing anymore.

So here Arthur is, standing on the curb of the busy pavement in the pouring rain, trying and failing to grab a taxi before he dies of pneumonia. When a car zooms past and splashes a large puddle directly on top of Arthur, he decides that he has had enough. "Watch where you're going, asshole!" He screams after it, waving his arms around as he looks down at his now soaking wet suit pants, muttering "I fucking hate London" under his breath.

"Surely that's not entirely true, darling?" Comes a deep voice that causes Arthur to freeze in his spot, slowly lifting his head to be met with the grinning face of Jonathan Eames. Eames, who Arthur has not seen since the Inception job three years ago. Eames, who Arthur used to drink away his troubles with after Mal died. Eames, who Arthur has slept with on more than one occasion. Eames, who is looking at him in amusement from the backseat of a taxi with the window rolled down.

"Eames?"

"Oh save the niceties for later, pet. You're going to freeze your bollocks off. Get in."

Arthur doesn't argue and hops inside the taxi as the driver rolls the window back up to savour the much-needed heat. The point man shrinks back into the seat in an attempt to soak up some warmth as Eames turns to face him, all cocky and warm looking. Arthur debates punching him.

"You don't really, do you?" asks Eames. Arthur raises an eyebrow.

"Don't what?"

"Hate London."

Arthur takes a moment to consider his options before shaking his head. "No, not all of it anyway. Mostly the weather."

Eames snorts. "Mostly." The silence between them is awkward yet comfortable; familiar. Both men have not seen each other since they miraculously pulled off Inception and everyone disappeared to reconnect with loved ones and travel the world. For Arthur and Eames, it was their final night together for god knows how long. The entire night, Arthur couldn't shake the feeling that there was something Eames wasn't telling him. He was different; full of lingering gazes, gentle kisses, soft touches. It made Arthur nervous. It made Eames leave directly after with the excuse: "My plane, darling, I'm going to miss my plane. I'll call you."

As Arthur presumed, the call never came.

When Arthur returned home, he was happy. Being surrounded by family and friends made him realise how lonely and secluded he was before, and he swore that he would never return to that dark part of his life. But then his parents died in a car crash one night, and he cried, and then there was a funeral where everyone offered Arthur their condolences and spewed bullshit left and right about how "sorry we are for your loss" and that "they didn't deserve it". Arthur had to leave, he couldn't handle it. It's safe to say Ariadne was not expecting a drunken Arthur to show up on her doorstep with a duffel bag in one hand and a bottle of Jack Daniels in the other, yelling and making wild hand movements as he cried on her shoulder. Apparently even in his drunk state of mind, Arthur knew that the only one he could actually confide in about his troubles was her. Ariadne pretended not to be sleep-deprived and slightly irritated as Arthur babbled on and on about how everyone leaves him, and she also pretended not to hear Arthur call out for Eames as she covered him with a blanket on her couch. (But, of course, she definitely heard when Arthur exclaimed "Everyone needs an Ariadne in their life! You're a saint!" before sloppily kissing her cheek. Yusuf and Dom laugh every time she tells it.)

"So, how's little Ariadne?" He hears Eames ask, snapping Arthur out of his daze.

"She's good, great, actually. Her and Yusuf and Dom are all doing well." At the mention of Cobb's name, Eames raises an eyebrow; seemingly unimpressed. "Since having James and Phillipa back he's been much more... carefree, loose, if you will. Even Saito calls from time to time, sends us the occasional gift package."

The forger hums softly and nods, tapping his fingers against his thigh absentmindedly while his eyes seem to be inspecting every single inch of Arthur's no doubt ragged looking face. He hasn't had much sleep lately but when the other members of the team ask, he simply tells them it's because he's been working hard on the case. "And you, Arthur? How are you?"

"Pretty good." The moment those words leave his mouth, Arthur knows that he has fucked up royally. Eames has always been able to read Arthur like an open book. No matter how convincing his lies were, Eames always knew when something was bothering the point man. And Eames also knows that Arthur would never be so poor at attempting to conceal his true emotions unless something was really bothering him, which increases his worry and is also what makes the forger lean forward and rest one of his large, warm hands on Arthur's cheek.

"When we get to my apartment you're going to tell me everything that's bothering you and why you aren't sleeping, alright? No arguments." His voice is so soft and gentle that Arthur wants to nuzzle his face into Eames' neck like he has done many times before and just fall asleep to the sound of him. Instead of doing any of that and embarrassing himself further, Arthur simply nods and tries to come up with a reasonable excuse as to why he looks like he hasn't slept in 21 years. When they reach their destination, rthur is surprised to find tht Eames' apartment isn't as bad as Arthur initially thought it would be, considering the last one the forger had before Inception was one of the smallest apartments Arthur has ever laid eyes on. The wallpaper, a horrible brown and red carpet-looking design with just enough hints of yellow that Arthur could joke resembled vomit, was moudly in the corners of the room and peeling off of the walls and it became clear why Eames had waited so long to show him his apartment. But now, as he stands in the large white and black themed living room of Eames' new home, Arthur can't help but feel... vulnerable, in a way. Eames returns moments later with a pair of sweatpants and a white t-shirt for Arthur to slip into as he waits for his clothes to dry, which he does once he locates the damn bathroom. The shirt is miles too big, as expected considering Arthur is scrawny and Eames is built like an army tank.

When he returns, Eames has rid himself of his suit jacket and untucked his shirt from his slacks. The flat screen on the wall is turned on and is showing something the called "The Jeremy Kyle Show". The people are talking too fast an slurring their words too much for Arthur to understand them properly, but whatever they are saying must be funny, since it causes Eames to howl with laughter.

"Where will I leave my clothes?" He asks. The sudden movement when Eames jumps up from his spot on the couch startles Arthur, though he tries not to show it. Eames pretends that he didn't notice and takes Arthur's clothes into his laundry room to let them dry off.

"Tea?" He offers.

It makes Arthur laugh, which makes Eames smile at the sound. He has always loved Arthur's laugh, always loved the way his eyes crinkle at the edges even more than usual and when he throws his head back to cackle loudly. Come to think of it, Eames has always loved everything about Arthur, but those are thoughts to be dealt with another day.

"No, thank you. You know, the team and I are going out for dinner at Dom's house tonight," Arthur informs him as he follows Eames into the kitchen, where he fills the kettle with water and turns it on before turning to lean against the marble-top counter, large arms crossed oveer his chest as a large smile graces his thin lips. He looks absolutely kissabl- No, Arthur!

"Oh?" Arthur nods.

"Yeah, and since I'm afraid of what Ariadne might do to me if she finds out I didn't invite you, would you like to come?"

"And this is all for Ariadne's sake, is it?" Eames teases.

"As well as my own, yes," Arthur smiles.

"Well we can't have you getting attacked by a vicious 5'1 architect who could most likely strangle you with one of her scarves, now, could we?"

Arthur snorts at that and rolls his eyes in a playful manner that leaves Eames' stomach churning and his heart pounding harder than ever in his chest. His gaze flickers to Arthur's fingers, that are fiddling absentmindedly with the hem of Eames' white t-shirt, which is awfully big on him but makes him look extremely vulnerable and innocent in the forger's eyes, especially since the rain washed all of the gel out of Arthur's hair and it is now a fluffy mop on top of his head. When he looks up again, he finds Arthur staring at him with a thoughtful expression. It makes Eames want to pick at his brain until he knows every little thought swirling around in that wonderful brain the point man possesses. As their eyes meet, Eames smiles, which makes Arthur smile too, no matter how hard he bites his lip to try and hide it.

Eames is completely and utterly fucked.

"So that's a yes?" Arthur's little smile is back, and he doesn't try and hide it this time.

"Well, Arthur, it depends."

"Depends on what?"

"Are you asking me as your date, or simply asking me to tag along?"

"Well, Eames, it depends." He mocks. This time it's Eames' turn to be confused.

"On what?"

"My dates usually kiss me at the end of the night," Arthur smirks at the shocked look on the larger mam's face before sauntering off into the living room. Eames' heart is racing and his stomach is doing somersaults as he stares after Arthur, lips curving up into a large grin as he chuckles incredulously to himself. He likes this Arthur, it reminds him of the way they used to be. At first, Arthur wouldn't give Eames the time of day and always dismissed him with fierce glares and dead silence. But, as he soon found out, Eames has a way with words... and his tongue. After that they could nearly always be found together, joking around and playfully flirting when they thought no one was looking. Arthur preferred to stay professional around his other colleagues, even if he knew they were well aware of everything. But then, when Eames is pouring the hot water into his mug and stirring it around for a minute or two before taking the tea bag out and adding a bit of milk, he thinks of the Arthur from inside the taxi; the Arthur that has bags under his eyes that have turned a deep purple colour, the Arthur whose face looks gaunt and haggard and the Arthur that Eames just wants to take care of and protect from the world until he's back to himself again. His Arthur.

"I've been thinking," announces Eames as he walks back into the living room with his cup of tea and some Custard Cream biscuits, plonking down onto the same couch as his guest.

"You? Thinking? I'm shocked, what is the world coming to," Arthur deadpans, to which Eames snorts.

"Bastard. Anyway, I've been thinking, and back in the taxi you told me you would tell me why you look like you're about to collapse from exhaustion. I'm all ears, pet." The once mocking tone in Eames' voice has gone now, and he's staring at Arthur with this look in his eyes that makes Arthur want to express every little thing he's ever felt in his entire life but he doesn't. He just shakes his head and stares back at Eames like a deer caught in headlights.

"Arthur-" He begins, tone exasperated yet calm, soft yet rough, apologetic yet unsympathetic. Something only Eames is ever really able to pull off. This time, Arthur doesn't want to hear it.

"My parents died."

"I- What?"

"My parents died, a few months ago. Car crash. Some asshole drunk driver smashed into them, killed them instantly," says Arthur, completely nonchalant, as if nothing is bothering him. "It's okay, though. I cried a lot, as expected, and then toughened up enough for the funeral, and then I left."

Eames watches him with fascination and slight worry, mainly because no one should be able to talk about the death of their parents without some sort of emotion shining through, but Arthur did. He always manages to catch Eames by surprise. "Then what's bothering you?"

"I'm not sure, anymore. I feel fine most of the time, I just haven't been sleeping so it gets hard to focus on things sometimes, I guess."

"You're not turning into Cobb, are you?" Eames jokes. It's a low blow, but Eames is still wary of the new and improved Dominick Cobb and has no shame in expressing it. Arthur hits him on the arm and laughs anyway, shaking his head like he always does when Eames is acting childish. (Which is a lot of the time.) Arthur tries to ignore the fluttery feeling in his chest when he catches the glimmer in Eames' eyes as he laughs, and Eames tries to control the urge to intertwine their fingers together when he looks down and notices that Arthur has absentmindedly joined their pinkie fingers already. An unspoken confession.

At nine in the evening, Arthur rings the doorbell to Dom's large house and waits patiently outside the door with Eames, who let Arthur pick out his suit for once and, in Arthur's opinion, actually didn't look like he was wearing a curtain. Eames had teased him for it, drawing out the word "darling" in scandalous voices when Arthur fiddled with the collar of his shirt and debated scouring through his ridiculously large closet for a tie, but soon enough decided that Eames looked good enough without one. They stopped off at Arthur's hotel suite for a new suit for him to wear as his earlier outfit was still wet. Obviously, more innuendos and dirty jokes ensued, which made Arthur laugh every time, but he didn't expect any less from Eames.

"You look good tonight, darling. I don't think I told you before," Eames tells him, eyeing him from head to toe and licking his lips.

"What, do I not look as good every other night? I am offended, Mr. Eames," He teases, right as the door opens and Dom is standing there with a surprised expression at the sight of the forger.

"Hey, Cobb, hope you don't mind that I brought a date," says Arthur, stepping inside the house and hanging his coat up.

"Not at all, Arthur, not at all! Good to see you again, Eames."

If there's a moment where Arthur nearly chokes on his own tongue, it's when Dom pulls Eames in for a large hug and Eames looks like he is appalled and frightened all at once. Arthur mouths 'told you' at him. Eames awkwardly pats Cobb's back before pulling away and holding him at arms length.

"Lovely to see you again, Dom." Eames smiles warmly before shrugging off his coat, hanging it up on the coat hanger by the front door along with his scarf, and placing a hand on Arthur's lower back as Dom scampers into the dining room/kitchen area, presumably to where Ariadne and Yusuf are eagerly awaiting the food.

"Arthur's brought a surprise date!" They hear Cobb exclaim.

"Arthur has a date? As in a real person? Oh, please tell me he hasn't resigned to buying cats!" Ariadne exclaims as he walks through the door, unable to stop grinning at the warmth from where Eames' hand is resting on his lower back.

"Well, Ariadne, I'm almost fully sure that I have not been transformed into a feline as of late, though I've been told more than once that I purr," says Eames, plump lips stretched into a shit-eating grin, causing both her and Yusuf to spin around and tackle Eames into a hug in under 0.2 seconds. Arthur is quite impressed at their speed. He steps away to give the trio some space and laughs loudly. Cobb observes the scene with a light chuckle before disappearing back into the kitchen.

"Feeling the love, guys. Really, thank you for acknowledging me. Glad to know that I'm valued," sniffs Arthur. The smile tugging at his lips gives him away. He doesn't notice the way Eames' eyes light up at the sight of it.

"Shut up, Arthur, we saw you this morning. We haven't seen Eames in years!" Yusuf retorts, arms still flung around the forger in a tight grip. Eventually, when Ariadne and Yusuf finally manage to tear themselves away from Eames, they make both Arthur and his date sit down at the table and question Eames on everything that he has been up to without them. Ariadne and Yusuf want to know everything and anything, and Arthur is happy to sit there and listen as long as Eames keeps their legs pressed together and a comforting arm over the back of Arthur's chair. Soon enough, Cobb is serving up their roast dinner and Arthur is nearly drooling at the sight. He hasn't had a proper roast in a very long time, since around the time his parents died if he can recall correctly, and he digs in without a moment's hesitation. Dom, being the welcoming and friendly host, pours everyone some wine and right before Ariadne goes to take a sip, she stops herself and raises an eyebrow at the two men across from her.

"Wait a minute, Cobb, you said Arthur brought a date." She looks at Dom, who's seated at the top of the table, then back at Arthur and Eames.

"Yes, I did."

"Are you guys, like, together?" Arthur feels his cheeks heat up at the question but he blames it on the wine. His mouth is open to answer her, to tell her that his and Eames' relationship is totally platonic (which is a lie) and that they harbour no feelings for eachother (another lie) and that they are not together (the sad truth), but Eames is already answering on behalf of the two of them, arm still strewn casually across the back of Arthur's chair.

"Still undecided," He responds.

Arthur chokes on his brussel sprout and has to drink his entire glass of wine to wash it down. Their friends stare at then with eyes as wide as saucers, as if not expecting a straight up answer. To be honest, Arthur wasn't either. After moments of wheezing and coughing, he finally manages to get out the words, "That was a shit way to ask me out." and Eames laughs loudly, and soon enough Yusuf and Ariadne are joining in and Arthur is trying his damn hardest not to die from embarrassment right then and there because now Dom is laughing and he just can't help the laughter bubbling up inside of him, too. And then they're all laughing together and Arthur doesn't think that he's ever been happier than in this moment, laughing with the people he loves most in this world. They continue talking and laughing and joking around until three am, when Dom finally confesses that he should be getting some sleep so he doesn't have a hangover when James and Phillipa comes back from staying the night at a friend's house. Yusuf and Ariadne are the first to leave, Yusuf insisting on sharing a taxi with Ariadne even after she tells him that her apartment is only a short walk away. Arthur and Eames bid Dom goodnight before going outside to wait for their own taxi. 

"So, Arthur, why does everyone else have a place to live here except for you?"

Arthur shrugs his shoulders, searches the deserted road for any sign of their taxi, then replies, "I'm not sure of that, either. I probably should, but I don't see the point in renting out a place that I wont actually be in a majority of the time." Eames nods, then grins when he gets struck with a brilliant idea. Arthur sees this and is already shaking his head, face contorted in that rare expression Arthur only ever gets around the forger. (Ariadne has taken to calling it the 'Eames, no, you gorgeous asshole!' look. Arthur swears he hates her.) Eames, being Eames, decides to speak his mind anyway.

"Move into my apartment, then. It's got an extra room and everything you could need."

The point man snorts, "Thank you, Eames, but is this not too soon for people that are 'still undecided'?"

"Do I detect some hostility on your part, darling?"

"Oh yes, I've been dying to get you into bed and ravish you but now my plans are ruined! I'm too upset to carry on! How could you call us undecided, Johnny?! I thought I meant more to you!" Arthur mocks, adding a few fake sniffles here and there for dramatic affect. Eames tosses his head back and barks out a laugh.

"You know," muses Eames after his bout of laughter, raising his eyebrows inquisitively, "That's the first time you've ever called me anything relating to my first name."

Arthur shrugs his shoulders. "To me you're more of an Eames than a Jonathan."

"Thank you, darling."

"How do you know I meant it as a good thing?"

"Arthur, pet, anything uttered by those gorgeous lips of yours is a good thing."

Eames is positively beaming to himself when the taxi finally pulls up. Arthur merely rolls his eyes.

**

"What about your things? Arthur? Hello? I'm not going to carry you into bed, you know." Arthur can faintly hear Eames patronise through the thick haze of sleep.

"Yes you will," He mumbles tiredly, eyes still shut. Before he falls asleep again, he hears the smile in Eames' voice when he whispers, "You've got me wrapped around your finger, pet." and then there is a pair of strong, bulky arms pulling Arthur close to his chests and carrying him into his bedroom. The next morning, Arthur wakes up without any trace of a hangover. Once he's dressed and cleaned himself up, he walks into the kitchen to see Eames leaning against the counter, scrubbing a hand over his face while groaning pitifully.

"I would have said Good Morning, but considering how you look right now it's the total opposite," comments Arthur, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"'s not my fault Cobb kept filling my bloody wine glass," mutters Eames. Arthur chuckles, it's quiet but it's there, and the sound of it makes Eames feel a little better. That realisation makes him groan again.

"And to answer your previous question, yes," says Arthur after a moment's pause.

Eames' eyebrows furrow. "Pardon?"

"Yes," repeats Arthur. He leans his elbows against the counter top and never breaks eye contact with the forger. "I'll come live with you, only temporarily, and I also refuse to be your charity case."

"Arthur," Eames draws out; exasperated. "I'm too hungover at the moment to give a fuck how I sound, but it's not a bloody big deal. Stay as long as you need, I couldn't give a toss. I trust you more than anyone else so it's really not a bother."

Arthur nods curtly. Eames recognises it as a sign of gratitude and smiles. "Oh, and I have men dropping your things over from the hotel. It's amazing what you can do with bribery and £800, isn't it?"

"You're ridiculous."

**

"So you're staying with Eames? In his apartment? Together? Alone? For long periods of time? With each other?"

"It's really not a big deal. It's a favour between friends."

Ariadne snorts. "Oh please, you and Eames were never friends. You were mortal enemies and then jumped into bed together. No friendship involved."

"It's not like tha-" At that moment, Yusuf bursts through the doors of the cafe a few minutes away from the warehouse where they had settled to visit for lunch. He hurries over to the table, effectively cutting Arthur off, and plonks down on the chair beside Ariadne. Yusuf blinks, looks between his two friends, and then nods his head slowly in understanding.

"So, what has Eames done now?" Arthur narrows his eyes at him. Yusuf shrugs and flags down a waitress to order a hot chocolate and a blueberry muffin.

"Nothing," Ariadne says, voice muffled as she speaks around her chicken sandwich. "That's the problem."

"There is no problem!" exclaims Arthur, "You two are my problem! My situation with Eames is fine!"

Yusuf shakes his head, eyes glistening. "Why call it a situation, then?"

When Arthur is left, for once in his life, speechless, his two friends high five in victory. "I hate you both, really."

A voice tuts from behind him. Arthur wants to die. "Why is it that every time I run into you recently you're proclaiming your hatred for something?"

Arthur doesn't turn around, just stays facing straight ahead, which really wasn't a great idea as now he's face to face with a smirking Yusuf and Ariadne, and really he can't decide which is worse. Of course, he doesn't have to as Eames sinks down casually into the only other seat at the table: beside Arthur.

"Hi, Eames! Arthur was just telling us about his new sleeping arrangements." Ariadne waggles her eyebrows suggestively.

"I wouldn't call them sleeping arrangements, hardly any sleep is involved anymore," Eames winks. Yusuf chokes on his muffin, spitting the crumbs across the table and some reach Arthur's lap, and Ariadne stares at them over the rim of her mug, wide-eyed.

"He's kidding," says Arthur, who then turns to Eames. "Don't make jokes, they're too dim to understand them."

"Hey!"

Eames continues to look at Arthur, the smile never leaving his lips. Arthur vaguely remembers thinking that anyone could see the fondness in his gaze, and that's why he has to look away. Before it all becomes too much. Arthur leans back into his chair, rests his head on the back of it with a sigh, not even caring that he's resting against Eames' arm - if he has a problem with it, then he should stop resting his arm on the backs of Arthur's chairs. He shuts his eyes in an attempt to tune out the world, just for a moment.

"That's cute. Ari, they're cuter than us. I'm outraged."

"We're not even together, Yusuf."

"Neither are myself and Arthur, as you both well know. If we were I would flaunt him off to everyone with a pair of eyes." Arthur's eyes flutter open when Eames' tone of voice turns soft, and he tilts his head to see the forger still watching him. Arthur has to shake himself out of the daze he's in. He sits back up straight, away from Eames' touch.

"What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you said you were staying home to help the movers?"

"Well, I got a rather surprising call from a Mr. Dominic Cobb after you left, said he wanted to have a chat," explains Eames, though Arthur is still mildly confused.

"Dom? He saw you last night."

"I was confused at first too, poppet. But then he explained that his team needed a skilled forger, and everything became so much clearer. Who was I to say no?" Arthur looks at him in horror. He hears Ariadne gasp softly and presumes Yusuf is grinning like a fool when he doesn't make a sound.

"I have never loved Cobb as much as I do now! Oh my gosh, Eames, we can reunite everyone again! Wait until Saito hears about this!" exclaims Ariadne.

"Maybe he'll bring us on his jet again!" Yusuf cheers.

"Is this a permanent arrangement or just for the job?" asks Arthur, effectively interrupting Ariadne and Yusuf's fun. Eames pauses for a moment. Arthur isn't sure if it was for dramatic effect or not, but it puts him more on edge than he's felt in a while.

"I'm afraid I'm here to stay, Arthur. Permanently."

Arthur nods his head slowly, trying incredibly hard to be professional and calm while the other two cheer. He sticks his hand out for a handshake, though he has the urge to just pull Eames in for a hug instead. Eames nods back at him and shakes his hand, hiding his own smile. When he runs a thumb over Arthur's knuckles, Arthrur knows that he understands.

**

"Did you two come here together?" asks Dom once both Arthur and Eames walk inside the warehouse. He's leaning over his work desk, fiddling with papers scattered everywhere and holding an unscrewed black sharpie. The rest of the team hasn't even arrived yet and Dom already looks scatter-brained and stressed. Arthur sighs deeply. Merely looking at the man is enough to make Arthur want to rub his temples and drink as many glasses of wine as possible.

"We do live together, I presume Ariadne told you." Arthur raises an eyebrow, walking over to his own desk where everything is neat and very un-Cobb-like. Just how he likes things to be.

"Yusuf, actually. But I just assumed that since you both still claim to be mortal enemies, which is total horse shit by the way, that you wouldn't travel in the same vehicle together," says Dom. Arthur thinks that he has a point. After a short pause, he continues, "My mistake."

Eames saunters into the middle of the room, between Dom and Arthur's desks, and rests his hands on his hips. "Arthur and I buried the hatchet long ago, Cobb."

Yusuf seems to appear out of nowhere when he says "You buried your hatchet where in Arthur?" Ariadne walks through the door at that exact moment holding five coffee cups, pauses, then turns around and leaves the way she came, all the while muttering "I need to find new friends." and looking thoroughly disgusted. Athur is tempted to follow her.

Eames is positively beaming.

**

Life with Eames can be the best and worst life you have ever lived. Arthur is beginning to understand that now more than ever. One of the things that Arthur loves most about Eames is that, though he may be a forger and changes personas every day, his personality will always remain the same. He's humorous, charming, loud, entertaining, electric; as soon as he walks into a room, all eyes are on him. Eames, who is always well aware of his attractiveness and charm, is so utterly oblivious when it comes to Arthur noticing these things. Especially when it comes to Arthur falling in love with each of these things individually. Especially when it comes to Arthur falling in love with Eames.

"Darling," begins Eames as he saunters into his living room and towards Arthur, who is curled up on the couch browsing on his laptop. Though his train of thought has been crushed, Arthur doesn't spare Eames a glance and attempts to look busy on his laptop. Eames doesn't seem to notice anything is wrong.

"Why do you always call me that? And pet, that too. Am I missing one? Oh, yeah, poppet," says Arthur, too 'concentrated on typing' to look up at the forger.

"Because you've never asked me not to," He counters. Arthur sighs and looks up at him with an unimpressed expression. "Point proven. Anyway, the mark is going to some charity Gala tonight and I need you to bring me suit shopping."

"Suit shopping?" Arthur echoes. Eames nods. He sighs.

"What time does the Gala start?"

Eames is yanking him up and out the door before Arthur finishes his question. They wander around the city for three hours, Arthur dragging Eames into every men's wear stores he passes, piling bag upon bag on the forger as he hurries around each store purchasing anything he knows will look great on Eames. Eames is getting overwhelmed.

"Arthur, I really don't think I need all of this. I just need one sui-"

"I'm buying you acceptable clothes to wear instead of those god awful suits. It's more for me than for you, deal with it." Nevertheless, Eames continues to follow Arthur around the store as he searches for more items to buy. He stops next to a rack of ties and bow ties in a range of different colours and stands next to a female employee, who is rearranging the stock.

"You love my 'god awful suits' and you know it. Couldn't keep your eyes off of me when we first met." Eames' tone of voice is smug. Arthur snorts.

"That's because you wore light blue slacks and a blazer, black suit shoes and a pale salmon shirt, Eames. I was appalled, not aroused."

"You wound me, darling." Arthur turns around with a plain black bow tie in hand and Eames shakes his head vehemently. "And no bow ties, they make my neck look odd."

Before Arthur can say anything in retaliation, a fit of laughter interrupts them. They both turn to see the female employee trying to muffle her giggles with her hand, watching them with wide eyes but unable to keep her laughter in.

"Sorry, did we say something funny?" asks Arthur. Eames places a hand on the small of his back absentmindedly.

"No, no," she gasps, wiping the tears from her eyes as she continues to giggle breathlessly. "You guys are just unlike any couple we've had in here before. You bicker like an old married couple, it's refreshing. I can tell you're very good for each other." Arthur goes deadly silent and Eames has to clear his throat before he can speak on behalf of the two of them.

"I'm afraid we're not together," he says. The woman's eyes grow larger and she gasps softly, though there's still a hint of a smile on her face.

"Oh, bollocks, sorry! Did I ruin a first date?" She then turns to Arthur and playfully nudges him, "You have a good eye."

Arthur shakes his head, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks despite his efforts. "We're just friends. Work mates. That's all."

She stares at them, as if she expects both men to burst out into their own laughter and claim that they fooled her. That doesn't happen. Instead, she pales drastically, apologises profusely, and proceeds to hurry away to the other side of the store. Arthur and Eames are left standing there, totally and utterly confused. When they return home, trying their hardest to ignore the memory of the store incident, Arthur orders Eames to change his clothes and waits outside his bedroom door for him to do so. The Gala is a black tie event, and every time Eames steps out in a new tuxedo Arthur has to bite back a moan at how good he looks in normal, non-blinding clothes.

"So, who are you taking with you tonight? I assume you have a date," says Arthur through the door, growing bored of staring at the wall.

"Me, myself, and a bottle of whiskey." Is Eames' reply. Arthur can't help but laugh.

"Really? You and I both know that you could charm anyone you want into going with you, who is it?" He tries again.

"I'm afraid not this time, Arthur. Also, this tux is a bit more complicated than the others so I may take a while."

"I'll go make a coffee, then." Arthur doesn't go into the kitchen to make a coffee. Instead, he walks down the hallway and takes a quick detour into his room, already flinging his wardrobe door open.

"I'm rea- Arthur?" Eames raises an eyebrow as he opens the door to reveal Arthur, in a lovely black tuxedo that fits him perfectly. His hair is slicked back and Eames has to remember to breathe properly. "What's all this?"

"You said you don't have a date for tonight," Arthur shrugs. Eames is suddenly overwhelmed by love for the man in front of him as a large grin stretches across his lips.

"You'd do that? Out of the kindness of your own heart?" The way Eames sounds, it's as if it's the greatest thing that has ever happened to him. Now it's Arthur's turn to be overwhelmed.

"Yes," he pauses, "and I thought it would be a way to repay you for letting me stay here." Eames' smile falters so quickly Arthur would have missed it was it not his job to pay close attention to detail, but then it reappears as if nothing ever happened and Arthur finds that his stomach drops.

"Well, that's as good a reason as any. You look good, what about this tux?"

Arthur licks his lips and eyes the man up and down, nodding his head slowly in approval. "Turn." Eames turns without hesitation and Arthur's knees feel weak when he notices how fantastic this tux fits around his shoulders.

"So?" asks Eames, once again turning to face the point man.

Arthur clears his throat before speaking, "This one, definitely."

They arrive at the Gala by limousine ("But darling, it's a Gala! We need to be cliché! Please, for me?") and, as expected, everyone's eyes are on them. The driver opens the door for them and Arthur steps out gracefully, admiring the venue as Eames follows him out. When a large hand slips into his own and intertwines their fingers, Arthur doesn't do anything other than squeeze back with his smaller hand and begin walking inside.

"Just so you know," mumbles Arthur, leaning in close to Eames' ear. "I am not going to play the act of your boy toy."

"I would never expect you to," Eames murmurs back, then smiles charmingly. "Come on, pet, we need to take our seats."

They make it through the security check without a problem, Eames giving a false name with all of the believable credentials, and he somehow managed to arrange for himself and Arthur to be seated at the same table as the mark, billionaire Mr. Christopher Steether. They sit at the opposite end of the table from Mr. Steether and Eames makes a show of settling their still-joined hands on top of the table when he catches the mark eyeing Arthur up. The point man kicks his shin, polite smile never wavering.

"He's been staring at you for a good ten minutes now," Eames grits out later, turning to lean in close to Arthur, who rolls his eyes.

"Jealous?" He raises an eyebrow tauntingly and turns his body in Eames' direction, crowding in on his personal space just slightly.

"You don't know the half of it, darling," Eames mutters darkly, tightening his grip on Arthur's hand. Arthur can't help but chuckle softly, shaking his head as he rests his free hand on Eames' thigh. He rubs his thumb against the fabric soothingly, unable to keep from smiling as the forger's breathing becomes more laboured. Arthur lifts up their joined hands and lightly drags his lips across Eames' knuckles, keeping eye contact the entire time.

"Let him stare then," he murmurs.

Eames, who stares at Arthur as if in a trance, finally breaks out into a smug grin. He shakes his head, as if unable to believe the absurdity of Arthur's actions, and his eyes travel down to gaze at Arthur's lips."You have no idea what you do to me, poppet."

"I don't think Mr. Steether quite enjoyed our show." Eames frowns at the sudden change in conversation but turns to look for himself anyway. The mark is staring at them disdainfully, but he stands from the table and makes his way over to a different table after Eames turns and catches his eye.

"His loss," says Eames, shrugging his shoulders. Arthur agrees with a wry smile. The waiters begin filtering through from the kitchen just as Arthur stands to head to the bathroom.

"Order for me," he tells Eames while on his way.

After Arthur has done his business and is washing his hands, the bathroom door opens and he glances up in the mirror to see who has entered. He freezes momentarily when his eyes lay on Mr. Steether. Arthur nods at him in greeting before lowering his gaze.

"Sorry, I believe we are seated at the same table tonight. Am I correct?" Mr. Steether asks, still standing by the door. He continues to stare, eyes raking down along Arthur's body slowly. It makes Arthur feel uneasy. Arthur rinses the soap off of his hands and grabs a tissue to wipe the water off, nodding his head.

"Yes, I think so." The billionaire holds out his hand, "Christopher Steether, and you are?"

Arthur tosses the tissue in the bin and shakes hands with him quickly, already pulling away as he replies, "George Blake, it was nice meeting you Mr. Steether."

Arthur takes a step towards the door but Mr. Steether blocks him, raising his eyebrows, a sickening grin on his face. "Are you in a rush, George?"

"I'm afraid my date gets rather impatient, so if you'd excuse me." He goes to take another step towards the door, but this time Arthur is pinned against the wall with a forearm pressed to his throat. Arthur is struggling to breathe. Mr. Steether leans in so close that Arthur can feel his heavy breaths against his face.

"I was having such a lovely time with you, though. Can't you stay a little longer?"

The bathroom door opens again and Mr. Steether's grip on Arthur loosens just enough that he can throw a hard punch to the older man's gut. Steether falls backwards onto the ground and groans in pain. Arthur slumps back against the wall for a moment, letting out a scratchy cough.

"Come on, pet. Before someone notices." Comes Eames' voice and Arthur chuckles hoarsely, already following him out the door. He doesn't bother to shrug off the arm Eames slings around his shoulders and instead leans into his touch (not that he will ever admit it).

**

"Arthur? You look like hell, what happened?" Is how Ariadne greets him the next morning. During the night, as he lay in bed staring at the ceiling instead of sleeping, a large purple-ish bruise bloomed on his throat from the incident at the Gala. He pretends not to notice the way Eames' jaw clenches every time he sees it.

"Nothing I couldn't handle," he mutters. Dom and Yusuf, who are both standing in front of the whiteboard, are watching him inquisitively. Eames bustles through the door a moment later with a scowl.

"We're not doing this job anymore."

Cobb blinks. "Sorry, what?"

"Let me rephrase: There's no way in bloody fucking hell we are doing this job so call whoever you need to and tell them that," Eames snaps.

The warehouse is silent. Arthur froze midway through taking off his jacket. Ariadne and Yusuf are gaping at Eames, seemingly at a loss for words. Cobb looks from Eames to Arthur slowly, then back again before he seems to catch on. "Is this about what happened to Arthur?"

"Just fucking call it off." Everyone knows that that's a definite yes. Dom sighs softly and combs a hand through his hair, "Okay, okay. I'll call Mrs. Steether and let her know."

Eames finally relaxes his jaw since he's been clenching it the entire time. He nods curtly, storming off outside for what Arthur assumes is a smoke, though he told Arthur that he quit. The other three turn to stare at the point man, as if he can help them understand Eames and the way he works. For some reason, that annoys Arthur more than it should. He doesn't understand Eames, he doesn't think he ever will. Arthur has a fair idea based on his own assumptions, but he's never bothered asking Eames if they are correct, and the forger has never bothered telling him, so Arthur just takes everything as it comes as gracefully as he can. He doesn't see why the team always comes to him when Eames related problems arise. Maybe he should inquire about that sometime.

"I'll talk to him," he promises. They continue to stare. "He's just having an off day."

"Arthur..." begins Yusuf, "what happened? I've never seen Eames so angry, not even when he found out that we could have all ended up in limbo."

Arthur shakes his head and clenches his hand into a fist by his side so he doesn't reach out and touch the mark on his neck. "It's nothing, really."

"Why won't you tell us?" Ariadne asks softly, tilting her head to the side as a look of hurt washes over her face. "Arthur, if it's dangerous you have to tell us why. We're a team, remember?" This makes Arthur sigh. Ariadne knows he cares for her deeply, and she knows that he hates seeing her upset or hurt. She knows he'll talk.

"Eames and I went to a charity Gala last night so he could study Mr. Steether and perfect the forgery. He kept staring at me, Eames was getting annoyed. I went to use the bathroom and he followed me. That's how I got the bruise."

Ariadne gasps, immediately rushing over and rolling up his shirt sleeves messily to check for more injuries. Arthur attempts to bat her hands away, sighing at how crumpled his shirt will be after this, but eventually lets her continue her investigation. "Did he beat you up? Are you okay? Did he try to-to..." She swallows and looks up at Arthur with wide, frightened eyes.

Arthur shakes his head and gives her a crooked smile. "No, he didn't do anything like that. He looked like he was going to, but Eames came in. When he was distracted, I punched him and we ran. Simple as that."

"Should've used my gun on him, had it strapped around my ankle. Bloke like him deserves to be six feet under." Everyone turns to see Eames has made a silent reappearance and is leaning against the wall next to the door, chewing on his lip as he looks down at his scuffed shoes.

"Everyone would've heard the gunshot," Arthur points out. Eames looks up and meets his gaze from across the room. His eyes look dead, lifeless; the usual glimmer of playfulness long gone. Arthur misses it - it's what makes Eames, Eames. Arthur also misses when he didn't think about such ridiculous things, and when he didn't think about Eames 24/7. Sadly, there's nothing he can do about it. His heart seems to have made a decision without consuting his brain first.

"Always the practical one, eh?"

"It's what I'm here for."

There's silence once again. Arthur looks around and sees Dom talking on the phone at the opposite end of the warehouse, a frown etched on his face. Yusuf and Ariadne begin poking him to check for more bruises and, though he tries desperately not to, the laughter bubbles out of him as he attempts to dodge their prodding fingers. Eames continues to watch from the wall, smiling despite the guilt raging inside of him like a storm.

**

The first time Arthur and Eames kiss after "three bloody fucking years", as Eames says, is that very same day when everyone else has left to go for lunch. Arthur is sitting at his desk going through paper work and Eames is watching him intently from where he's sat on Dom's desk. Finally, Arthur pays him some attention when he throws the papers down and raises an eyebrow.

"What?"

Eames feigns innocence. "What?"

"You've been staring at me for fifteen minutes now."

"Have you been counting?"

"Is there something on my face?"

Eames sighs in exasperation and hops down from the desk, sauntering over to Arthur's desk and plopping down gracefully on top of his files. "You need to eat."

Arthur sits back in his chair and sighs. "Eames, it wasn't your fault. Don't blame yourself."

"But I knew he was up to something, Arthur!" Eames yells, all of his frustration and anger and guilt seeping through. Arthur doesn't bat an eyelid at the sudden change of his voice, having more or less expected it. "I should have known! I should have done som-" Arthur silences him the most effective way he knows how: a kiss. He stands up from his chair and presses his lips to Eames' firmly, pulling him closer by a hand on the back of the forger's neck. Eames is still against his lips for all of two seconds before he places his hands on Arthur's sharp hips and tugs him forward, parting his lips slightly. Just as Eames lightly grazes his tongue against Arthur's bottom lip, someone begins clapping. Both men pull away quickly to see Saito standing in the doorway, watching them with a large grin and clapping.

"Sorry for interrupting, I can always come back later." He raises his eyebrows tauntingly. Eames clears his throat in embarrassment.

"Saito, long time no see. No one mentioned you were coming."

"Clearly," he says. The smile is still on his face as his eyes flicker to Arthur. "Hello, Arthur."

"Saito," he mutters, nodding his head. It's then that he notices that his hand is still resting on Eames' neck and he pulls away quickly. Eames does the same, though Arthur finds himself missing the warmth from his hands. And the feeling of Eames' lips on his own after so many years. Arthur has never hated Saito more than in this moment, and that's saying something. Eames doesn't look too pleased, either, and the thought of him being just as disappointed as Arthur ignites something in the point man's stomach. Arthur hopes he isn't grinning like a fool.

"I came to congratulate Mr. Eames on joining the team permanently, but it appears that Arthur has already shown you enough gratitude for one day."

Both men are now turning a bright red. The sound of chatter through some of the open windows grows louder and louder, and Arthur can hear Yusuf's familiar roar of laughter growing closer. His eyes grow wide.

"Saito, could you keep this between us? Please?" He pleads.

Saito tuts in disapproval. "It is not nice keeping secrets from friends, Arthur. But you have my word."

Eames lets out a sigh of relief at the same time Arthur does. "It's not that we're keeping it from them, there's just nothing for us to tell them."

"Yet," Eames adds. Arthur can't say anything to that because the door is finally opened by Dom, followed by Ariadne and then Yusuf, who all freeze once they see Saito standing there.

"You're back!" exclaims Ariadne, pouncing on the man before anyone else can do anything. She never has been one for formal greetings and, for some reason, no one ever questions it. (Arthur can never bring himself to do it, he finds it too adorable). Dom smiles and goes in for a handshake once Ariadne has pulled away. Yusuf merely waves and grins.

"Hello Mr. Cobb, Ariadne, Yusuf." Saito nods at each of them individually. "I was just getting reacquainted with Arthur and Mr. Eames here."

"Just Eames, actually, thanks."

Arthur rolls his eyes and throws the forger an unimpressed look. Eames smirks at him, waggles his eyebrows, and throws in a wink for good measure. Arthur can't believe that he's actually somewhat involved with this man. He's ridiculous (and he loves it). Eames stands from Arthur's desk then, while the others make polite conversation, and leans in close to his ear, murmuring: "If Saito hadn't walked in I would ravish you on this desk."

Arthur snorts to draw attention away from the fond smile spread across his lips, but it apparently doesn't work since Eames just smiles wider. Arthur leans in close also, chuckling before he speaks quietly, "If Saito hadn't walked in we would have had to explain why you were 'ravishing me on a desk' to our friends who more than likely would collapse from shock."

Eames tosses his head back and cackles, drawing the attention of the others. Arthur scrubs a hand over his face to hide his wide smile. Ariadne, Dom, and Yusuf are all grinning smugly as Eames continues laughing, either unaware of his friends staring or simply done with caring. Arthur chews on his bottom lip so hard that he can taste a small amount of blood. Saito has a knowing look on his face when he catches Arthur's eye, and he winks slyly. Saito knows just as well as Arthur does that he's so fucking gone for Jonathan Eames.

**

When they return back to Eames' apartment, it's safe to say that Eames is the happiest he has been in a very long time. Out of the time Arthur has spent with him, anyway. He turns on the radio and sings along loudly and out of tune while cooking dinner. Arthur can hear him from his bedroom down the hall, with the door closed. He laughs to himself while he changes into a pair of sweatpants and an old college t-shirt. That's one of many things that Arthur loves about living with Eames; The man has seen him naked so many time that he couldn't give less of a shit what Arthur wears (Though he does appreciate the way the suits compliment his figure... and by figure he means "arse"). Arthur walks down the hall quietly and into the kitchen, leaning against the fridge. He crosses his arms over his chest loosely and tilts his head back until it rests comfortably against the door of Eames' fridge, still keeping his eyes on the forger, who has yet to notice his presence. He finally notices Arthur when he turns to grab plates from one of the cupboards.

"Like what you see, poppet?" Eames grins at him boyishly.

"Always," Arthur replies, his own grin taking over his lips. Eames leans in and brushes their lips together softly, still looking into Arthur's eyes as he does so. Arthur rests his hands on Eames' chest and can't help but gaze back at him, hoping to communicate how he feels for Eames through his eyes instead of through words. The forger seems to find something he likes, because he presses his lips to Arthur's in a hard kiss, pinning him against the fridge and bracing his arms on either side of the point man's head. This time, Saito can't walk in to stop them and Eames takes full advantage of that. He wastes no time in grazing his tongue against Arthur's bottom lip until he opens his mouth wider. Their tongues clash together desperately, the kiss growing rougher and rougher with each second that passes. Eames presses up against him, slides his thigh between both of Arthur's legs. Arthur moves his hands from Eames' chest to his hair, grasping at it and tugging lightly, bringing Eames as close as possible. He's missed this. He's missed Eames. In a haze of lust and overwhelming love, Arthur decides to tell him that.

"Eames," he gasps, tearing away from the kiss. The forger drags his lips across Arthur's pale jaw and hums in response. He tugs on his hair sharply. "Eames."

Eames finally looks at him. "Yeah, pet? What is it?" His tone of voice is breathless. It makes Arthur feel weak at the knees, like he'll collapse any second. 

"I just- I missed this. I missed you."

Eames laughs incredulously, staring fondly into Arthur's eyes as he rests their foreheads together. Their breaths mingle from the close proximity and their noses are pressed together, but Eames still somehow manages to look him in the eye. "I missed you too, you daft prick. So much you have no idea."

"Really?" Arthur smiles and kisses his lips again, then he frowns and pulls away. "Why didn't you call?"

Eames shrugs. "I thought you didn't want me to."

"That's never stopped you before," says Arthur. Eames chuckles and presses a soft kiss to Arthur's nose. Arthur manages to keep from scrunching it up at the light tickling sensation.

"I thought you wanted it to be just sex. I didn't want to push you to feel anything."

"Look who's the daft prick now."

Eames playfully nudges Arthur's thigh with his knee before claiming Arthur's lips with his own once more.

**

Arthur and Eames continue to act normally around the team. Saito had flown home on his jet late last night for personal business, so there wasn't anything to worry about there. Arthur trusted that he would keep his promise and not speak a word about any of it. They are back in their old routine: sex, work, sneaky kisses, more work, the occasional night where one or the other would stay over and Eames would end up talking for hours just because Arthur loves his voice- except, this time, they are just down the hall from each other and there are many more feelings involved that neither of them would ever have dreamed of admitting to before. Eames still talks nonsense if Arthur can't sleep at night, but now he's finding that Eames' voice is better than any lullaby in the world.

The first night Arthur fell asleep to the sound of Eames' voice was when he asked him to talk about his childhood. Eames spoke softly as he retold Arthur stories from his past like when he lived in Cheshire, or like the time he nearly set one of his sister's hair on fire in the back garden (Arthur laughed especially hard at that one). He didn't mean to fall asleep, he really didn't, but Eames was holding him so close to his chest and the mattress is one of the comfiest Arthur has ever slept on and Eames' voice is so soothing. He couldn't help but drift off.

He woke the next morning to Eames snoring softly next to his ear. Arthur has never been more content.

Eames also seems to have figured out that his voice helps Arthur sleep. Now he just begins talking, even if Arthur tells him he doesn't have to. Arthur now knows the stories behind Eames' tattoos, his love for dogs, the many adventures he gets up to with his four year old nephew; Nathan. Arthur feels guilty for not telling Eames more about himself. Maybe he will. Someday. Someday he will tell Eames everything.

**

"So, Arthur. We need to talk."

"What now, Ari?"

"You and Eames are banging again, yes or no?"

Arthur chokes on his coffee. Ariadne continues to stare at him. "Again?" he splutters, "Why do you think we-"

"So it's a yes, then," She cuts him off and crosses her arms over her chest. Arthur stares at her, stubbornly, silently. Ariadne raises her eyebrows in question.

"Why did you say again?"

"Because whenever you would help me with my designs back when I first started, you would lean over the desk and I would get a delightful eyeful of hickey-central right on your chest. I assumed it was Eames, what with the way he even just looks at you. I'm ashamed I didn't catch on sooner. Although, I did suspect Cobb until I found out about Mal. I presumed Yusuf was too... Yusuf, for your liking. I used to think Eames wasn't to your taste, either, but then again it's Eames. He's to everyone's taste."

Arthur pales, then curses. "I fucking told that asshole not to do it, I knew someone would see! But of course Eames was all 'but darling they'd look so good' and it's the accent, Ari! The fucking prick knows-" Arthur is, once again, cut off by Ariadne, but this time she's laughing so hard that she's struggling to breathe.

"What? What did I say?"

Ariadne shakes her head, still laughing as she manages to say, "God, Arthur, I never knew you loved him that much." with a straight face before giggling again. Arthur throws a pencil at her but doesn't deny it. When Ariadne notices that, she finally stops laughing.

Arthur and Eames eat together in silence that evening, though the forger has a smile on his face the entire time. Arthur finds it suspicious but remains silent. Eventually, Eames cracks.

"So... how's hickey central?"

"Out of business." Eames laughs so hard he nearly slips off his chair. Arthur makes an attempt to remain unaffected at first, but soon he begins laughing too.

"She spoke to you, then?" he asks later. Eames nods, still smiling.

"More of an interrogation than a conversation, I would say, but yes. Never knew Ariadne was quite so protective of you." Arthur scoffs and rolls his eyes.

"She's protective of you, too, believe me." Eames chuckles and slides over to sit next to Arthur on the couch, slinging an arm around his shoulders and pulling him close. Arthur squirms to get away, hitting at Eames' arm as he does so, but Eames just tightens his grip. Arthur narrows his eyes, but the smile on his face gives him away. He really needs to stop looking at Eames like he's the damn saviour of the world.

"So, two people now think we're having sex?" asks Eames.

"We are having sex."

"True," Eames nods, "but you know what I mean."

Arthur grins. "Perhaps, you may need to clarify."

This time it's Eames who rolls his eyes. "You're a git, I hope you know that." Arthur chuckles but nudges him to go on. "They don't know about the feelings. They think it's just... meaningless."

Arthur hums softly and nods his head, resting it on Eames' shoulder. "We know it isn't meaningless, that's all that should matter. Though I'm still unsure about exactly what feelings you have."

Eames flicks the side of Arthur's head and laughs when he yelps. "You know exactly what feelings I have for you, darling." Is all that Eames says in reply. Though Arthur is happy with how they are now, he still feels a small pang in his chest when Eames doesn't give a proper answer. Could Arthur be falling too fast? Is Eames in love with him? Arthur wishes he knew, but, looking up the gorgeous man he gets to spend every day with, Arthur can't bring himself to do anything other than kiss him. Arthur wonders when he got so weak.

**

"Mrs. Steether has finally accepted the fact that no amount of money or drugs will persuade us to do this job, though she's still not happy." Is how Cobb greets them all one morning.

Eames, who was chatting with Yusuf, grips the edge of the desk so hard his knuckles turn white. Arthur sees this and clears his throat, looking unfazed. Ariadne casts him an odd glance, a frown etched on her features. Yusuf looks worried as his eyes flicker from Eames to Arthur, and back again.  "Well that settles that, then. She offered you drugs?"

Dom nods his head as he stands before them all, looking amused. "Indeed she did."

"Isn't she, like, 64 this year?" asks Ariadne.

"Perhaps she has nothing else to do while her husband goes off and cheats on her," mutters Arthur. It's quiet, but not quiet enough, and results in everyone looking at him worriedly. He rolls his eyes and turns to look back at Cobb.  "Anyway, any other jobs lined up?"

"We've got a few, actually. Come take a look at the files."

Arthur ignores the way Eames continues frowning for the rest of the day.

**

The next job the team takes ends rather well... except for the bullet in Athur's shoulder and thigh, the two fractured ribs, a broken nose, two black eyes, a bust lip and a twisted ankle. Other than that, it all ended perfectly. The job is too long and complex to explain, but the day after they pulled everything off, the mark discovered what happened and, inconveniently, Arthur was the easiest target out in the open because Ariadne had sent him out to get the food and drinks, as they were all dining at her apartment and had ordered take out.

Arthur fought back, of course. He took down over a dozen of the men trying to kill him while he attempted to flee, but then his two guns ran out of bullets and they just kept coming. Arthur, who was practically unconscious after he somehow managed to outrun them enough to hide, limped the rest of the way across town back to Ariadne's. He knew they would be surrounding Arthur's car, knew there would be no point in trying to go back. He attempted to keep pressure on his wounds, but that only resulted in cries of pain escaping his bust lips and pools of blood trailing behind him. Once he finally reached Ariadne's front door, he banged on it with a bloodied fist, ruining the white paint.

Ariadne flung the door open, already in the middle of saying "I was wondering what was taking you s-" and then her eyes grow wide as she takes in the bloodied and battered image of her best friend leaning heavily against the doorframe. "Arthur, what happened?!" Ariadne gently grabs him by the arm and slings it over her shoulders while she tries to pull him inside. Arthur lets a broken sob escape. Ariadne is growing more frantic as she kicks the door shut.

"Guys, help! Arthur needs help!" She yells.

Immediately, Arthur can hear three pairs of footsteps scrambling into the hallway. His eyes are too swollen for him to see properly and his vision is fuzzy from blood, but he vaguely recalls Eames crouching in front of his face and saying something Arthur couldn't hear, with tears threatening to escape. Arthur has never seen Eames cry before. The others, as of that moment, have.

Arthur awakes some time after that, and he feels much cleaner, though the pain is much worse than he remembers. He manages to peel his aching eyes open and recognises Ariadne's living room immediately. There comes a gasp from the doorway, but Arthur is too tired to turn his head to look. He doesn't have to, as Ariadne comes running to his aid instantly. He hates the fact that there are fresh tear tracks on her cheeks, hates the fact that he put her through this.

"Arthur," she cries, bottom lip trembling, "I'm so sorry! I didn't know that would happen! I'm so so sorry!"

Arthur chuckles weakly and pats her cheek with his hand, even though it drains the energy from him, and mutters hoarsely, "You didn't know. I'll be okay."

It's silent for a moment, save for her sniffles, before her eyes grow wide and she whispers, "Eames." before jumping up and fleeing the living room. Arthur's entire body aches as he drags himself into a sitting position. He squeezes his eyes shut, sighs, and continues to drag himself up until he's comfortable. A faint tutting noise causes him to open his eyes at last.

"Why am I not surprised that you're trying to move just after waking up?" says Eames, walking forward and sitting on the small coffee table across from Arthur. His eyes look puffy and red, and his hair is messier than Arthur has ever seen it, as if someone has been running their fingers through it. Despite all of that, Arthur attempts a small smile, for Eames' sake. He looks like he needs it.

"Because you know me," he replies, voice scratchy and throat raw. "Can I have some water?"

Eames goes out, fetches him a glass and fills it up to the top with water, then returns and hands it to the point man. Arthur's hands begin shaking from the effort of lifting the glass to his lips, but he doesn't stop until he can take a large gulp. Eames pulls it away from his lips a moment later.

"Easy, pet. Can't have you throwing up, too."

Arthur's breathing is shallow and he thinks he sounds a little like Darth Vadar. The thought makes him smile weakly. "What's wrong with me, exactly?" He asks. "All I know is that I ache everywhere."

Eames lets out a dry laugh and his body tenses even more, whuch Arthur didn't think was possible. Eames looks exhausted, relieved, and furious all at once. "What isn't wrong with you? You were shot twice, fractured two ribs, broke your nose, got two black eyes, a bust lip and twisted your ankle."

There silence, and then, "Impressive."

Eames looks at him incredulously. "You're lucky you aren't dead, Arthur."

"We're all lucky we aren't dead, Eames."

Arthur flinches at the ferociousness in Eames' bloodshot eyes but keeps their gazes locked. Eames when angry is a terrifying thing to witness, and Arthur always pities the person on the receiving end, even if they deserve it. It feels surreal knowing that, this time, it's him that's receiving it. "Don't turn all philosophical on me, you know what I mean. Arthur, you could have been killed yesterday. Dead and gone. And the last thing I would have said to you was 'Make sure to ask for extra curry sauce'. Why doesn't that bother you?"

"It doesn't bother me," Arthur pauses to cough into his fist before continuing, "it doesn't bother me because I know that with everything you do and everything you say, there's always something there that makes me feel loved. If I died yesterday, or whenever I do inevitably die, I will know what I meant to you because you show me in your own way each and every day. One 'oh, darling, remind me to buy toilet paper' from you is worth more to me than a thousand 'I love you's from anyone else, oddly enough. That's why it doesn't bother me."

After that, Arthur actually does see Eames cry.

**

A few weeks later, when Arthur is able to comfortably hobble around and most of his bruises have healed, Dom invites the team over for Phillippa's birthday. When they arrive at the house, they discover that it's themed around animals and wildlife. Dom has bought a large cake shaped as Philippa's favourite animal, a giraffe, and she only invited her closest friends from school (and James, who got his own special invitation), so all in all it's a relatively small gathering. They show up at directly at two pm, the time given on the invitations, and Philippa squeals with delight upon seeing Arthur and Eames. She runs and tackles Arthur in a hug, hitting right against his fractured ribs, and he bites his lip to keep from groaning in pain. Eames sees this and beckons her over for his own hug. Arthur mouths 'thank you' before placing her present on the table with the others and walking slowly over to his friends.

Yusuf claps him lightly on the back when he sees him. "Arthur, how're you feeling? You look good, better than on the brink of death, anyway."

Arthur snorts. "Thanks, Yusuf. I feel like a glass doll, and I hate it, but injury-wise I'm healing pretty quickly."

"I hope Eames isn't being too rough." Yusuf waggles his eyebrows. Arthur shoves him playfully.

"Ari told you?"

"My eyes told me, Arthur. Ariadne told me what I already knew. I thought you two would be better at hiding it, all things considered. But, then again, I can't say that I won't get tired of annoying the hell out of you both. It's a win/win for everyone!"

"Oh, we are excellent at keeping secrets, Yusuf," laughs Arthur. "We just didn't feel like it this time."

There's a shriek of "Arthur!" that interrupts their conversation before Yusuf can ask any more questions, and the point man turns to see James running as fast as his little legs would carry him, face painted as a lion. Arthur feels his lips stretch into a grin just at the sigh of him.

"James!" He mocks, dropping down onto his knees slowly to engulf him in a hug. James pulls away after a moment, giggling when Arthur ruffles his hair.

"I missed you!" James is giving him a large, toothy grin. Arthur smiles so wide that his cheeks begin to hurt.

"I missed you too, little man. How've you been?" He playfully pokes James in the stomach. "How's the Spidey collection?"

James' entire face lights up at the mention of his Spiderman collection and he begins babbling so fast Arthur struggles to keep up. Across the room, Eames is watching Arthur and James fondly, unable to keep from grinning. He doesn't notice Dom standing beside him until he says, "He's good with them, huh?" and Eames nods his head. Totally unfazed by the sudden appearance of Cobb, focused solely on Arthur. He doesn't care if Dom is staring at him, or if he can see the love in Eames' eyes as he watches the way Arthur laughs at something James says. All Eames cares about in that moment is Arthur. When Eames finally tears his gaze away from Arthur, he sees the knowing look on Dom's face. He grins sheepishly.

"Ready for love to drive you crazy, Eames?"

"Oh, my dear Cobb, it already has."

Eames watches as Philippa runs over and grabs James by the arm, saying something about cake before they're both running off. Arthur grabs on to the edge of a nearby table to help lift himself up from his knees, wincing slightly at the strain on his body. Before Eames can open his mouth to excuse himself, Dom is nodding and walking back into the kitchen.

"Need a hand?"

Arthur, who still has one knee on the ground, looks up at him and shakes his head. "I've got it," he grunts.

It takes him another minute to finally stand up, but he does it. Eames can't help but adore the satisfied smile on his face. The front door bursts open to reveal Ariadne, who is struggling to carry a very large present through the door, and another woman in tow. Ariadne sets the present down in the table, then spots Arthur and scurries over, dragging the woman along with her.

"Arthur! Eames!" She exclaims, hugging them both tightly before pulling away. "Sorry we're late. This is Claire, Claire this is Arthur and that's Eames."

Claire, who is standing shyly behind Ariadne and chewing on her lower lip, shakes both of their hands with a timid smile. She's six inches taller than Ariadne, standing at 5'7, and has dirty blonde hair that grazes the tips of her shoulders and hazel eyes. She's quite lanky, yet not stick thin and there are faint freckles littered around her cheeks that Arthur can't help but find endearing. She watches them from behind her rectangular glasses, twiddling her thumbs anxiously. Arthur takes pity on her and flashes her a bright smile, attempting to comfort her in some way. Claire catches it and seems to relax, just slightly, against Ariadne. Arthur takes a glance at their linked fingers and nudges Eames to do the same, acting completely casual about it until Eames waggles his eyebrows at Ariadne and she laughs. "What, you didn't think you and Arthur were going to be the only cute gay couple here, did you?"

"We're not a couple," both Claire and Arthur blurt out in unison. Then they all begin laughing.

"This should be interesting," says Eames. They all agree.

Arthur soon finds that he likes Claire a lot, and that she's a good fit for Ariadne. Claire comes off as very shy and quiet, which she is, but once you get comfortable enough she's actually quite funny and energetic. Ariadne helps bring her out of her shell, she tells Arthur. She's very open-minded and accepting, with a natural soft sounding voice and a booming laugh. Claire reminds him of himself, and maybe that's why Arthur finds himself telling her a small bit about Eames and their relationship. Claire is the only one Arthur has told anything remotely sappy to about the forger, and he plans on keeping it that way for as long as possible. At one point, she lifts her glass and motions for Arthur to do the same.

"A toast," she announces, "to being in love with the most idiotic of fools the world has ever seen and not regretting a single second of it!" Arthur laughs loudly and clinks their glasses together. From the corner of his eye, he can see Eames and Ariadne both looking at them with smiles on their faces.

**

"Why do parents send their children into school when they're infectious. It's horse shit. What would ever make them think that that's a good idea."

"Good morning to you too, my chirpy corn on the Cobb."

"That was terrible."

"Shut up."

Arthur snorts and sits back in his chair, wincing only slightly when he stretches and feels the pull on his ribs. He's mostly healed by now, but Eames still insists on being as delicate as humanly possible when doing anything that even remotely involves Arthur. It gets annoying, but Arthur finds he doesn't mind it as much as he initially thought he would. "Who's sick, Philippa or James?" he asks.

"Both," Cobb answers gravely. Everyone grimaces.

"Did you get any sleep?" asks Yusuf. Dom shakes his head.

"None at all. When James was done, Philippa would start, then they would repeat. It was like they were ganging up on me or something."

"How something so cute and innocent can produce something so vile is beyond me," says Eames.

"Maybe you should take today off," suggests Ariadne. "You don't look too good either."

"Yeah," Cobb mutters, already walking back out the door. "A day off sounds nice."

Cobb has to take the rest of the week off as he got sick, too. Philippa and James take turns going from each member of the team so they won't catch the stomach bug again. They stay with Ariadne for two days, then with Yusuf, then are passed on to Arthur and Eames for two days until Dom can take them again on Saturday. It's not bad, either, in Arthur's opinion. The kids have school from 9:30am to 3:00pm so really all they have to do is cook them breakfast and pack them lunch, collect them when school is finished, make dinner while they do their homework, play a bit, eat and then Eames allows them to watch TV for a while until bed time. It's oddly domestic for people like Arthur and Eames, who usually live quite violent and dangerous lifestyles. Arthur likes it. (As does Eames).

On the second night, once the kids are put to bed and sleeping soundly in Arthur's room, Eames wraps his larger frame around Arthur and hooks his chin on his shoulder. "Tired?" asks the forger when Arthur lets out a small yawn.

"Kids are exhausting."

Eames laughs and places a soft kiss to Arthur's neck, slowly leading the way down the hall to Eames' bedroom. They share a bed most nights now anyway, so Arthur had no problem letting James and Phillippa sleep in his bed. Arthur wiggles out of Eames' grip and changes into a worn t-shirt and plaid pyjama pants. Eames merely strips down to his boxers. (Arthur goes to tell him to at least put a shirt on in case one of the kids needs something, but he takes one look at his chest and bites his tongue). Arthur leaves the door open a fraction in case either James or Philippa do need something during the night, and then he crawls back under the covers with Eames. The room is mostly silent, except for the soft inhales and exhales coming from both men, and Arthur assumed Eames has fallen asleep already until the forger begins speaking.

"You know, the very first day we met I hated you."

Arthur snorts. "Thanks, Eames. I really appreciate it."

"You hated me too, don't even try to deny it."

"True, what's your point?"

"My point," he sighs heavily, "my point, darling, is that I hated you because you were so bloody real, you know? Despite all of the shit we do as a living, you were still able to make sense of everything. You had your shit together."

"Past tense has been noted."

"Past tense is being used because now it's our shit that's together, mostly. So shut up and let me continue."

"Go ahead." Eames can hear the smile in Arthur's voice.

"I knew I had to have you. As bad as that sounds, all I wanted was to have sex with you once and then I assumed I would never see you again. But then I got to know you, and suddenly getting into your pants wasn't enough for me anymore. We actually became quite close," Eames pauses to chuckle softly, "I had forgotten about even trying to have sex with you. All I wanted was to be close to you, maybe be the reason for the smile on your face that only Mal could seem to produce. But then again, Mal could make anyone smile. She was especially fond of you, though. She adored you. I used to think you and her had a thing, you know. Before Cobb came on the scene. Anyway, I think she knew. I think she knew about how quickly I was beginning to adore you just as much as she did, maybe more. Mal, she asked me not to tell you that this happened, but she found my shitty little apartment somehow-"

"That disgusting cupboard you lived in with mushrooms on the wall?"

"Precisely. Anyway, she somehow found my apartment even though I hadn't told her where I lived, and she brought me to lunch, and she threatened to use my skin as wrapping paper for a Christmas present and knot my innards into a bow to place on top if I ever did anything that hurt you. She laughed, but I knew she was serious. And I was, too, when I told her that seeing you hurt was something I couldn't stand. After that, we became great friends. And you and I grew closer, and she bloody knew what we would become before we even had the slightest idea. And, well, we all know what happened after that. I think that's the only time I've ever seen you cry, when Mal died. And you were so upset that you asked me to have sex with you."

"Eames-" begins Arthur with a stern tome despite the way his throat tightens. Eames knows that Arthur hates how he acted when Mal died, and how Arthur despises himself every time someone mentions it.

"But I just could'nt. I wanted to, very much, but you were so upset and looked so exhausted. So I told you that in the morning, if you still wanted to, I would gladly have endless sex with you. And then I just held you, for the rest of the night, even after you fell asleep. And just holding you made me so fucking happy, Arthur. I know it sounds ridiculous, but the fact that I could help even the tiniest amount made me feel like I had a purpose again, because when Mal died, I felt like I lost everything for good. To me, she was always like this shining beacon of hope and all things good in the world and then she just- she died. And so did everything she stood for. I thought I lost everything, but it turns out I hadn't lost you... and you are my everything. How ridiculous is that?"

There's a long silence, and Eames is holding his breath, and Arthur doesn't make a sound until he turns his body around to face the forger and plants a firm kiss to his lips. When he pulls away, Eames notices the way Arthur's eyes water but he doesn't mention it, just pulls him closer and kisses his forehead gently. "You know," mutters Arthur, "what's ridiculous is the fact that I'm not even your boyfriend yet and you just told me that I'm your everything."

"Arthur," Eames says, "we live together."

"We're ridiculous people, then."

"I can't say I'd have it any other way." Arthur laughs, and it's like music to Eames' ears. Slowly, they fall asleep tangled up in each other, and if it's with smiles on their faces, well, then no one needs to know.

**

"You know," begins Claire as she walks back into the living room, holding a mug of green tea and a coffee for Arthur, "You and Eames, you look at each other like you're about to kiss. It's sickeningly sweet."

"The sickening part is all him, don't blame me," replies Arthur, a smile on his face. He can practically hear Eames' offended "Hey!" and see the pout on his lips. Sadly, Arthur doesn't get to see it as he and Ariadne have gone out for lunch together, giving Claire and Arthur time to catch up.

Claire's laugh echoes around the cosy living room in Ariadne's apartment, which she moved into three weeks prior. It makes a change from the last time Arthur was here, there's no blood or tears or injuries to deal with. It's pleasant and relaxing, something rare for Arthur. He enjoys it while he can and sips at his coffee. Claire tucks her legs up underneath her and rolls her eyes, setting her mug down on the coffee table.

"Oh, please, don't pull that shit with me. You know what Ariadne said after Philippa's party?"

Arthur raises his eyebrows. "What?"

"She said, 'Arthur and Eames: world's most in love couple, also world's most oblivious and frustrating couple. They're worse than a TV drama.' And that's a direct quote." Claire crosses her arms over her chest and raises an eyebrow at Arthur, as if daring him to argue any further. Really, all he can think of is how true that statement is.

"We're not that dramatic," he informs her. "To us, it's simple. We feel how we feel, we get it, there doesn't have to be any great confession of love. We're casual and it's... nice, all things considered."

"Is work complicated?" Claire tilts her head questioningly, a puzzled expression on her face. Arthur takes another gulp of his coffee and nods slowly. Ariadne hasn't yet told Claire about her job, about Dreamsharing, about any of it. When asked why, she claims she wants to wait until the moment is right. After all, it is a lot for a person to take in. Arthur understands completely, but he hates keeping things from Claire, since they've grown so close recently. All she knows is that Arthur and Eames are Ariadne's colleagues, along with Yusuf and Dom. Nothing more, nothing less.

"A little, just frustrating at times, nothing big," says Arthur. "Anyway, I don't understand Ariadne's view of myself and Eames. We've always been like this, since before she was ever brought to our department, so it's second nature for us. Eames is, well, he's Eames. He's loud, and infuriatingly charming, and gorgeous, and wears shit that no one should be able to pull off but he does. It's all of the things I hate about everyone else, jumbled up to create the person I love. How insane is that?"

Claire shrugs. "I find it cute. I mean, Eames is good for you, Arthur. He's really good for you. He makes you smile like no other, and witnessing the look of love and pride on his face after is just something so lovely I can't even describe. He makes you laugh and helps you experience more of life than you thought possible, and you help keep him grounded but everyone knows that you're just as mischevious, if not more. Eames knows that. He knows what gets you annoyed and does it anyway because he loves to see every single side of you, good and bad. And that's what matters. So, yes, it's insane. But isn't love an insane concept anyway?"

Arthur looks at her in awe, takes a deep breath, and then shakes his head in wonder. "How have I not told him that I love him, yet? That I'm in love with him?"

"He knows, Arthur. Trust me."

"I know that he knows, but I should tell him. I feel like I should just admit it, no rambling, no candle-light or rose pettles, just those words. He needs to know."

"Well," Claire is smiling when Arthur looks back at her, "What are you waiting for?"

**

When Arthur returns home, looking calm and collected but secretly shitting it from nerves, he finds that Eames is home before him. He hangs up his coat next to Eames' and makes his way into the kitchen, drawing in a deep breath to calm himself. Eames is pacing around the kitchen with his phone pressed against his ear, a frown on his face and using rapid hand movements until he notices Arthur telling the person on the other end of the line to "Hang on just a minute, sorry, one second,"  before covering the speaker and walking over to Arthur with a smile, though it doesn't reach his eyes. After he kisses Arthur on the head and murmurs, "Hello, poppet," Arthur begins frowning.

"I'll be done in a minute, pet, then I'm all yours for the rest of the evening, alright?" says Eames. He doesn't give Arthur a chance to reply before he's uncovering the speaker and bustling past Arthur, presumably down the hall and into his bedroom, leaving Arthur stand there in confusion.

Don't worry, he tells himself, it's just a small bump in the road. Eames is fine. The plan will work. Arthur tries not to frown and remain positive as ten minutes go by, and then twenty, and then half an hour later Eames is still on the phone and Arthur is left watchng Gordon Ramsay yell at restaurant owners while bored out of his mind. Arthur hears Eames begin yelling from his bedroom and he sighs. This definitely isn't how he planned the night to go. He texts Claire and tells her that the night is a disaster because Eames won't get off the damn phone and she replies with a very raunchy idea that Arthur may or may not have filed away for later use. After another ten minutes, Arthur decides that he has had enough and goes into his bedroom to collapse on his bed, which hasn't been slept in since James and Philippa stayed a week and a half ago. Arthur didn't slam the door, he doesn't care for dramatics and Eames probably wouldn't even notice anyway.

Arthur isn't quite sure how long he lays there, face buried in the pillows that smell hardly anything like Eames, until he feels the mattress dip and a sudden warmth next to him, but he doesn't really care, either. All he cares about is the way Eames is running his fungers through the hair at the back of Arthur's head slowly, planting kisses to the back of Arthur's neck as he does so.

"'m sorry, pet. Business call, didn't mean to take so long," Eames murmurs.

Arthur turns around at that and raises his eyebrows at the man leaning above him, holding him at arms length when Eames leans in for a kiss. Now, it's Arthur's turn to frown. "A business call?" He echoes. Eames nods. "Dom normally calls me f- Oh... Oh. It wasn't Dom, was it?"

Eames stays silent above him. He studies Arthur's expression, which has turned to stone, and when his gaze flickers to Arthur's eyes they look dull and lifeless. Like how they looked when Eames first met Arthur. The forger is hit with a sudden wave of déjà vu and his chest aches, longing for the life to return to Arthur's eyes, longing for him to smile at Eames and tell him that everything is okay, that they are okay. Predictably, that doesn't happen. As Eames predicted, Arthur is furious.

"So, what, you're just going to leave for a job right after coming back?" Arthur laughs dryly and shakes his head. "I should have fucking known."

"Arthur, just listen, okay? It's a really good job, pet, I-"

"Don't!" He yells, wriggling out from underneath Eames and springing up from the bed, as if it has burned him. "Don't call me that! You have no right to walk into my life and then leave whenever you please! You don't!"

"Arthur," says Eames quietly. He's kneeling in the middle of the bed, watching the man with sad eyes. Arthur hates how his first instinct is to go to Eames and kiss him until he smiles, Arthur hates how the sadness in Eames' eyes makes him want to do anything in the world to make him happy again, Arthur hates how quickly he's fallen for Eames. "Arthur, if you don't want me to go, I won't. I wanted to tell you when I knew more about it. I asked if I could bring my own team, I asked if I could bring you, but they shot me down. I really want this, Arthur. But I want you more."

Arthur has frozen in the middle of his bedroom, mid-running his fingers through his hair, and he slowly turns his head to stare at Eames. The forger gulps. "You-" he starts off, then clears his throat as it wavers. "You've been thinking about it for a while, haven't you? When did they first ask you, Eames?"

"They asked me the day of the Gala."

"Why didn't you say anything?" Arthur snaps. His three-piece, normally so crisp and clean, is crinkled and rumpled, something so un-Arthur-like that Eames has to keep checking to make sure that the man before him is really Arthur. If it's really his Arthur, who he has come to know better than anyone over the years.

"I was going to, Arthur, believe me. But then you fucking got abused by an old pervert in a bathroom, so I decided to put it off for a little while until the timing was better. And then you got beaten and battered to bloody hell, and I couldn't stand the thought of that happening to you and me not being there to help, so it just... slipped my mind."

"Slipped your mind," Arthur echoes, staring at Eames incredulously. Then, he loses what little patience he had left. "I'm not a fucking child, Eames! I can look after myself, I don't need you to act as my carer! I can do just fine on my own! Just because you're not here doesn't mean I'm not going to get beaten up or nearly killed! In case you haven't fucking noticed, what with your head so far up your own ass and all, it comes with the job!"

"I didn't mean it like that, Arthur, and you know it," Eames snaps, clenching his jaw to remain calm.

"I don't give a shit about what you think, anymore! I can't believe that I ever did!" Arthur continues yelling, flinging his arms about in a fit of rage. Eames once remembers someone telling him that "Real anger strikes when yelling doesn't even contain the amount of fire burning in your eyes," and now he knows that they were right. Arthur is looking at him like you can access the gates of hell through his eyes. Eames would be lying if he said he wasn't even the least bit scared. Especially when Arthur takes a long, deep breath and shuts his eyes, chest still heaving as he turns to Eames and his eyes snap back open. "If you want the job so badly, you should go. But do me a favour, and don't ever contact me again. I want nothing more to do with you."

"Arthur, please, think about what you're saying for a minute," Eames pleads. He doesn't sniffle, doesn't reach out to wipe away the single tear streaming down his own cheek, just stares at Arthur with as much pain and sorrow as he can muster. "Arthur, please. Don't throw us away because of a job. Don't make me choose."

"Well," sniffs Arthur, looking away from Eames' eyes. "I guess you're lucky that you don't have to make one, then. Goodbye, Eames."

Arthur ignores the choked sob that tears from the back of Eames' throat, though it rips him to pieces inside, and gathers his phone and wallet before storms out of the room, through the hallway. He grabs his coat, blinking rapidly to keep the tears at bay long enough for Arthur to leave the apartment that now, strangely, isn't home anymore. From the corner of his eye, Arthur can see Eames standing at the doorway of Arthur's old bedroom with tear-stained cheeks and a broken expression on his face. He pauses, only momentarily, then feels the betrayal and hurt bubbling up inside of him once more and flees from the apartment. He still doesn't slam the door.

**

"Arthur, what is it, it's three in the fucking- Arthur?" Claire pauses from rubbing her eyes, eyeing the state Arthur is in before grabbing his forearm and pulling him inside. "Ari! It's Arthur! He doesn't look good!"

Ariadne hurries down the stairs once she hears that, her mind flashing back to images of a bloodied and near-death Arthur banging on her door with bloodied fists and slow breathing. She's relieved to see that there isn't any blood, this time, and that Arthur doesn't seem like he'll die from any injuries... maybe alcohol poisoning, though. Arthur is tipping over as he sits on the couch, with Claire trying to steady him so he doesn't vomit on himself.

"Christ, Arthur," Ariadne cuses, rushing forward. "What happened? Why did you drink so much?"

"Eames," he slurs in response. "How could Eames do.." Arthur trails off at the end of his sentence, but it's all the information Ariadne needs. She grabs her phone off of the table and quickly scrolls down to Eames' number, pressing the green 'Call' button and impatiently waiting for an answer. It takes until the third ring for Eames to pick up, and a sniffle is the first thing Ariadne hears.

"Eames, I don't know what the fuck went on tonight between you and Arthur but if you don't get your fucking ass over here right this second and explain why there is a drunken Arthur on my couch at nearly four in the fucking morning who looks like he could have alcohol poisoning there will be serious fucking hell to pay. Got it?"

"I'll be there in five," Eames mutters.

"Make it less and your death won't be painful," Ariadne snaps before angrily clicking the red 'End' button.

Claire has taken to removing Arthur's jacket and unbuttoning his vest and shirt, which Ariadne raises her eyebrows at - "I don't want him to feel like he can't breath, I don't know, I thought it might help" - and his shoes and pants are also added to the pile of clothes on the floor. Arthur giggles madly, then groans and brings a hand up to cover his mouth, still swaying as he attempts to focus on either Ariadne or Claire with wide eyes. Ariadne sprints into the kitchen for a bucket and tosses it to Arthur just before he begins vomiting. Claire takes a few steps back, grimacing and shrivelling her nose in disgust at the smell. Ariadne sighs loudly and pinches her nose. Then, the doorbell rings, and Ariadne glares at the front door fiercely.

"I'll get it," says Claire, patting Ariadne's shoulder. "I think Eames is already worried enough without you threatening him some more."

Less than ten seconds later, Eames is brushing past both Claire and Ariadne and directly to Arthur, who is still vomiting into the bucket. Ariadne glares at Eames until he turns to look at her, looking broken beyond repair, and Ariadne's eyes soften. She sighs loudly and scrubs a hand over her face.  "Explain."

"We had an argument and it ended badly. Not much else to say," Eames replies lamely.

Just as Ariadne is about to unleash her wrath on the forger once again, Arthur removes his head from the bucket and his eyes widen when he sees Eames. There's a dopey grin on Arthur's face when he says, "Eames! You're here! I lo-"

"Who wants tea?!" exclaims Claire, interrupting Arthur and causing all eyes to turn to her. Arthur frowns but is soon back to vomiting in Ariadne's bucket. Claire sighs with relief, knowing that, if Arthur remembers, he'll thank her in the morning for saving him from telling Eames that he loves him with vomit dribbling down his chin. When no one replies, she nods her head slowly and plops down on the armchair in the corner, across the room from where Arthur is strewn across the loveseat.

The rest of that night is not spent pleasantly, full of the sound of Arthur retching hours after he ran out of things to throw up into that poor bucket. Ariadne will just go out and buy a new one, unable to look at it the same way now that it has been used in such a vile manner. Eames remains by his side the entire night, seemingly not caring about the traces of vomit on Arthur's hand which he held through must of the night. Ariadne and Claire fall asleep twice before Eames sends them back up to their own bed with the reassurance that he will be fine, that someone should get some sleep. Arthur finally falls to sleep at 6:09am and Eames is thoroughly exhausted. He goes into the bathroom to scrub his hands clean, and then splashes some water on his face before hurrying back into the living room to check that Arthur hasn't choked on his own vomit. He hasn't.

Eames wakes up from his nap at 10:15am and immediately checks that Arthur is still asleep before gathering his suit up from the floor and folding it neatly, placing it on the coffee table along with Arthur's shoes. Eames walks into Ariadne's kitchen to find herself and Claire, still half-asleep as they sit at the table, slowly munching on slices of toast. Eames steals a slice off of Ariadne's plate but she's too tired to say anything, so Eames decides to raid the fridge for juice instead.

"Are you staying until Arthur wakes up?" asks Claire around a yawn. Eames stiffens.

"No, I'm afraid not. I need to head in to work for a few hours today, finish up a last minute project."

"It's Saturday, though." Claire frowns. "You guys work for shitty people if they can't just wait until Monday to finish a project."

"Sadly, we're on a deadline." Eames turns and takes a sip of his juice, shrugging his shoulders. He promptly ignores the way Ariadne is staring at him suspiciously, with narrowed eyes, and focuses on Claire until she stands up and stretches, then heads down the hall to get changed. Eames sighs as Ariadne pats the vacant seat and plops down, hesitantly looking her in the eyes.

"You have one minute to talk, Eames, or I swear to god I will break every single bone in your body twice if I have to."

Eames is struck by the sudden thought of Mal, and that only makes matters so much worse, because he really doesn't need to start thinking about his deceased friend at a time like this. After all, he has a plane to catch in a few hours. "Like I said, we argued. I told Arthur about a job I have been considering without the team, and he got angry, and then he told me to never contact him again. It ended so terribly, Ariadne. I didn't mean for it to happen."

"I meant what's the whole thing about the 'last minute work project' but, thanks for telling me, anyway. And, if you haven't figured out by now that Arthur has more trust issues than anyone else in the entire world, I really don't know what to tell you, Eames. He was never that bad until a couple of years ago. He hasn't told anyone what happened, but something made him break inside."

Eames is suddenly reminded about the death of Arthur's parents, about how quickly they were torn from his life just as he finally got them back, and Eames groans, hitting his head against the table. "Fuck," he curses quietly. "Shit, Ari, everything is fucked up."

Ariadne pats his back comfortingly, completely confused yet always ready to be supportive. Eames has always loved that about her. Come to think of it, so has Arthur.

**

Arthur wakes up on Ariadne's couch at 12:45pm, this time in much different circumstances yet still feeling a throbbing pain in his skull. The light peeking through the blinds on the living room window's is shining directly in Arthur's face and he groans loudly, blocking his eyes with his hands, which, he notes, smell disgustingly like vomit. Arthur turns to see his suit folded neatly on the coffee table and is then hit with the sudden realisation that he is left in his boxers and socks, in the middle of Ariadne's living room. He would flush an embarrassing shade of red, but, sadly, this isn't the first time that this has happened. (And probably isn't the last). Arthur doesn't search the apartment for Ariadne or Claire, or go devour some food like his stomach really wishes he would. Instead, Arthur goes into the bathroom and hops into the shower to scrub the sticky substance from his skin. Once he's finished, and his hair doesn't smell like vomit, Arthur slips back into his boxers and into the kitchen for some food to settle his stomach.

There's a small sticky note taped to the fridge when Arthur reaches it. It says: Darl Arthur, I know we left things horribly, and I'm so very sorry for the pain I caused. Ariadne called me last night, I stayed until this morning to make sure you wouldn't choke on your own vomit. She knows what happened. If you cared enough to read this far, I'm sorry for writing such a useless note but I really don't know what else to say other than I love you, Arthur Cohen. Even if you don't want to know me, I'm in love with you, and I can't apologise enough for leaving you like this. I'll be gone for four months on the job, I presumed you would still tell me to go, so I have. I trust that if you need me, you'll know how to find me. Love, Eames.

Arthur re-reads the note twice before folding it up neatly and keeping it held in a tight fist, breathing in and out, in and out, slowly, but nothing seems to be able to calm the unbearable pain Arthur feels in his chest now that realisation sinks in. Eames is gone... and it's all my fault.

**

Four months drag by slowly. Arthur doesn't allow anyone to talk about Eames' absence, not even Claire, and he has warned Ariadne not to tell a single soul about it. She merely nodded her head and offered Arthur a pitiful smile, which he shrugged off. Arthur stays up every night, hardly sleeping as he wonders what Eames is doing, if he's okay, if he's dead. The last part always brings Arthur on the road to an anxiety attack, and he's left clutching his stomach and drawing in ragged breaths for hours afterwards. Arthur doesn't need anyone's pity, doesn't deserve the sympathy because he is the reason that Eames is gone and he is the reason that everything turned to shit. Arthur is the reason Eames confessed his love through a sticky note instead of in person. Arthur somehow managed to ruin his life in a matter of hours and he hates himself more and more every day because of it.

"It's been four months, Ariadne. I need to know where the fuck Eames has disappeared to! Arthur's walking around like some lonely fucking ghost and doesn't allow anyone to talk about it! What happened?!" Cobb is shrill, close to pulling his hair out as Arthur hides behind the door to the warehouse, listening closely. He hears Ariadne sigh.

"I don't know, Cobb. Eames could be anywhere by now. He never said."

"Arthur hasn't said anything to you about it?"

"Dom, from the moment Eames left Arthur hasn't allowed anyone to talk about it. You really think he'd tell anyone his problems? Even me?"

"I don't want him to go back to the old Arthur, I want to see him happy. He deserves it. Even James and Philippa have noticed that something's not right anymore, especially after I told them not to talk about Eames around him. I'm worried, Ariadne. I don't want him to have a breakdown or anything."

"We're all worried about him, Dom, but if he keeps refusing our help then there's not much left for us to do other than deal with it. I just wish that he'd talk to someone. I wish Eames was here, he always knew what to do and say to comfort him. I miss him."

It's then that Arthur thinks that he has had enough and he walks back outside, looking down and rubbing at his tired eyes until he bumps into someone. Before he can mutter a half-assed apology, there's a warm hand grabbing Arthur gently by his wrist and tugging him back, causing the point man to look up at whoever he had bumped into. He automatically wishes that he hadn't. There, standing before him for the first time in four fucking months, is none other than Jonathan Eames. Arthur's eyes widen as Eames looks down at him with a tentative half-smile, and then he bolts back inside the warehouse and bursts through the door, making Ariadne and Dom jump.

"Arthur, what the hell- Eames?" Ariadne cuts herself off once her eyes land upon the man who followed Arthur inside. Her jaw drops slightly, mouth forming into a small 'o' shape, and Ariadne's eyes flick from Eames to Arthur quickly. "Oh my god. My eyes are messing with me. This isn't happening."

Arthur continues to stare at him in shock, rubbing his eyes again, harder this time, to check that he isn't hallucinating. Eames is here. Eames is real. Eames is back. He's still staring back at Arthur, looking almost as dazed and surprised and terrified as Arthur feels. The warehouse is deathly silent. Ariadne and Dom stand off to the sidelines, watching with wide-eyes and shocked faces. Arthur doesn't know how to react. After four months of dreaming of this moment, repeating what he wanted to say to Eames over and over again like a mantra, his mind has gone blank and he's left staring at the forger like a fish out of water.

"I-" Arthur begins. "You're real."

Eames nods his head slowly. Arthur catches the corner of his mouth quirking up. "Very much so."

"You're here?" whispers Arthur, and he's finally able to do more than just stare at the man.

"I told you I would come back, didn't I?"

"I didn't think you would. I thought I treated you too poorly for you to come back."

Eames clears his throat and looks down at the floor, shifting awkwardly on his feet before slowly looking back up and staring into Arthur's eyes again, which are already watering. "We were both treated poorly, Arthur. I just hope that you're willing to forgive me, or else I'll look like a bit of an idiot."

Arthur huffs out his first real laugh in four months, and Eames' lips lift in a soft smile, and Arthur wants nothing more than to run over and kiss him breathless. Arthur plans to, but not before he tells Eames something, first. Something that he has been waiting to tell Eames for a while now, but never got the chance. "You are an idiot, but you're the idiot that I fell in love with. You're the idiot that I want to spend my best and worst moments with, if you'll have me."

"If  I'll-" Eames asks, shaking his head as he scoffs incredulously. Eames seems to catch on to Arthur's plan and he rushes across the room until their shoes touch, breaths mingling. Arthur, being too caught up in staring into Eames' eyes after so long, doesn't see the forger bury one of his hands deep inside of his coat pocket until he slowly nudges a small, velvet box into Arthur's hands. "Does that answer your question?"

"Is this-"

"Yes, Arthur."

"Are you-"

"I am."

Arthur hits him on the arm and laughs, biting his botton lip harshly as he plays with the box nervously, having yet to open it. Arthur hands it back to Eames, who looks crestfallen and heartbroken again until Arthur tells him, "I want to hear you say it, Mr. Eames."

The forger laughs and grabs the box gently from Arthur, their fingers brushing, and he pops open the lid of the box to reveal a simple yet elegant white gold engagement ring placed on a plush pillow. Inside the ring, there's a small engraving which says 'Darling ' in beautiful cursive writing. Arthur begins to tear up at the sight, but he's glad to know that Eames is, too. Ariadne gasps faintly and Arthur hardly pays her and Cobb any attention, too wrapped up in Eames and the way he's staring at Arthur like he's the best fucking thing in the world. Maybe, in Eames' world, he is. The thought makes Arthur's knees grow weak. Thankfully, Eames doesn't get down on one knee, so Arthur knows that the forger will catch him if he falls, like he always does. "Arthur Cohen, you are the ridiculous man that I have fallen in love with, and it seems everyone else caught on to it before I did. I feel like this is a long time coming, so I decided to make this short. Marry me, darling?"

"I would be an idiot to say no," says Arthur, and then he pulls a beaming Eames into a well-deserved and long-awaited kiss. Ariadne and Cobb cheer and clap, and Yusuf bursts through the door a few moments later, huffing and puffing. Once he sees Eames, he pauses, then spots the ring on Arthur's finger and proceeds to tackle both men to the ground with joy. Arthur laughs loudly as Yusuf squeezes them both as close to his chest as possible.

"Pile on!" yells Ariadne, and soon herself and Dom are joining in. Arthur gets brutally flattened that day, or maybe it's just the way his breath hitches in his throat every time the ring on his wedding finger catches the light but, either way, it's the happiest he's been in a very long time.

**

It's the summer of 2014 now, and Arthur is away for a week in Tokyo as a favour to Saito. In the past year, himself and Eames finally got married. It was a small ceremony in February, with only the team and Eames' family invited. It would have been a much smaller ceremony, had Eames' mother not made sure that they at least had a cake and a venue for the reception - "It's all I ask, I never thought Johnny would actually get married!" - so, really, they didn't have much of a choice. They decided to have the reception in the large backyard of Eames' family home under a marquee so they wouldn't get drenched by the rain. Dom and Yusuf hung up fairy lights and draped them across the ceiling, and Ariadne and Claire made sure to help Eames' sister pick only the loveliest of flowers from her garden as a centerpiece for the single round table everyone was seated at. Arthur and Eames just sat back and let everyone fuss about the arrangements. They couldn't give a toss as long as they had each other and their friends and, in Eames' case, his family. Now Arthur's family, also. Thinking of it still feels odd, knowing that he now has a Mother-In-Law and Father-In-Law and other people to call family. He couldn't be happier.

Arthur took a leap of faith when he let Eames plan their honeymoon. Granted, he was quite curious (and nervous) as to what exactly the forger had in mind, even after he warned Eames that if he brings him to a sex dungeon Arthur won't hesitate to divorce him. Saito, as their wedding present, allowed the newlyweds access to his luxury private jet and told them that they can use it whenever they please, as he has two others. Arthur will never forget the look on Eames' face, he has it saved to his memory forver. What surprised Arthur when they landed was the fact that he recognised everything immediately. He turned to look at Eames, who had stuffed his hands deep inside his pockets and looked almost shy, and gaped at him.

"You've met my parents, now I want to meet yours." Was all Eames said, and it was enough for Arthur's heart to ache. He never thought about ever going back to visit his parents' graves, all he wanted to do was forget that it ever happened. He couldn't help the pained expression that crept its way onto his face, but Arthur knew that Eames deserved to know as much about Arthur as Arthur does about him. He knew that it was finally time to tell Eames everything he had been trying to keep a secret for so many years. Ariadne often comments on how relaxed and happy Arthur is now, though he's still the best and strictest point man in the business, and he just smiles and tries not to let his eyes drift to Eames, who is more often than not messing about with Dom or Yusuf. Not a day goes by where Arthur isn't overwhelmed by love for Eames, and it must show on his face because his friends share this knowing look and Eames merely pulls him closer into his side, and Arthur can't think of any place on earth where he'd feel more at home than in Eames' arms.

Arthur is ripped from his thoughts as he hears the familiar ringing of a Skype call, and he rushes over to his laptop to click 'Answer', plopping down on the couch and grinning as his husband's face appears on the screen. "Miss me already?"

Eames rolls his eyes and attempts a smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes, and it falls from his face as quickly as it arrived. "I know it's hard to believe, but being without you sucks utter bollocks."

"You're preaching to the choir. I don't want to be the clingy husband, but I miss you like hell," says Arthur. Eames looks down at the keyboard instead of at the screen.

"Well then we're both clingy."

"But listen baby," The nickname is what brings Eames looks back at the screen, chewing on his bottom lip as he stares at his husband longingly. Arthur gives him a half-smile. "Only four days left."

"Poppet, I am counting the seconds," replies Eames. This time, they both smile, and it's genuine and real and beautiful, just like Eames. As the forger begins prattling on about some prank he and Ariadne pulled on Dom that day, Arthur rests his head in his hand and sighs, happily, and watches the way Eames' eyes brighten as he laughs, and the way his lips which Arthur adores stretch into a satisfied grin.

Arthur spends his days admiring Eames and Eames spends his days making Arthur laugh hysterically, just because he's hopelessly in love with the way he throws his head back and loses it. Arthur and Eames spend their days together like they were supposed to all along, surrounded by friends and family, doing the things they love and enjoying the life they have together, at last.

"And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter - they are rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long." - Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals.