Work Text:
Originally written in April 2011. Inception. For 
aimlesstravels.
Warning: Not for kiddies. Also, contains slash, sort of.
Arthur winces before he drags Eames away from the bar. He throws an apologetic look at the bartender who merely chuckles and shakes his head.
Clearly it's nothing new to him, but Arthur still feels embarrassed on Eames' behalf. Not that he thinks Eames is actually capable of that particular emotion, being the shameless flirt that he is.
"Come on, you big lush. Let's get you home," he can't help but laugh.
It's one thing to thank your bartender for making a proper drink. It's another to thank him by offering to blow him.
As Arthur hustles Eames out the door, he carefully but firmly pulls Eames' hands away from his ass.
The older man actually pouts.
"Eames," Arthur rolls his eyes with good-natured exasperation.
"Well, you won't let me blow the bartender," he shrugs before he staggers into Arthur, sending them both tumbling to the ground.
They land in a tangle of flailing limbs and grunt as they hit the pavement hard. Arthur groans, and stares up at the night sky, asking the deities what he did to deserve this.
The deities, of course, don't deign to answer him.
Eames sits up slowly, and takes stock of himself, nodding carefully. "Ow," he says plaintively.
Arthur lifts his head and casts a half-hearted glare. "What do you mean 'ow'? I'm the one who landed on the ground. You landed on me," he makes a face and drops his head back on the ground with a thunk, wincing when a dull pain from the impact flares in his head.
"You're right. I apologize," Eames enunciates each word succinctly.
Arthur shakes his head. "Never mind. I'll send you the dry cleaning bill later."
Eames pauses, tilts his head, considering something in his head.
"How 'bout a blowjob instead?"
END