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Eames feels pretty smug about the grenade launcher — the look on Arthur’s face had been priceless. As for the ‘darling,’ well … if they were all going to die in this nightmare, why not?
Arthur runs to catch up with him. “What was that?”
“A grenade launcher?”
“No, you know what I mean. ‘Darling.’”
“You would have preferred ‘pet?’”
On the next level under, they’ve all split up as planned. He’s on a quick sweep for projections when Arthur comes barging down a hallway, looking wild-eyed.
“What’s wrong? What happened?” He’s supposed to be with Ariadne, planting the explosives.
“Nothing, I’ll catch up to her. Look. I need to know something.”
“What?”
“Have you been flirting with me this whole time, or is that just you being English?”
“You’re asking me this now?” When Arthur glowers, he quickly adds, “Of course I was flirting with you.”
Arthur pins him against the wall and kisses him, hard. “Fuck. I wish I’d asked you sooner. Look, if we get out of this alive, I’ll do anything that filthy mind of yours can dream up.”
He stares, incredulous, then beams as it sinks in. “Best news I’ve had all day. Why’d you ask now?”
“Newfound sense of mortality.” He steals another kiss. “I have to meet Ari. Don’t get yourself killed.” He’s off down the hall before Eames even manages a response.
As they get ready to go down to the third level, Arthur comes over and helps him put in his cannula. He slides his thumb slowly across the inside of Eames’ wrist in a gesture almost as intimate as their earlier kiss.
Eames can barely contain himself. “Just be back before the kick.” He doesn’t add ‘darling,’ but he’s pretty sure Arthur knows it’s there.