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For some Christmas was a time of stress, of family and gatherings, of enduring all that came with long lines and loud music and wailing children. For others it was the huge feast of Thanksgiving to accommodate the vegetarian cousin, the no vegetable uncle, and the aunt who drank more sherry than she used for cooking. That was for most. For Eames, after the haunted house that had tried to assimilate them into its fiendish plot to build and rebuild constantly into all eternity, Halloween was now the holiday that Eames had come to truly worry over.
Perhaps, with time, he would lose that tension he felt about the holiday. Perhaps he'd learn to get past it all when it didn't happen again. He doubted that though. Not when there were ghost girls on planes, and gypsy's predicting death. Life had changed fourteen months ago on Halloween and Eames knew they would never be the same. Not that he'd want them to be in some ways.
The same meant he and Arthur might never have admitted to their feelings; mutual feelings held but never shared for so many years. Not until they were facing death had they been willing to reveal the truth to one another.
A year had passed, seeing one another when they could and sneaking away to Greece that had involved sad ghost girls and family deaths and so when Halloween had come around again, neither of them had mentioned it at all. It was glossed over, both pretending they weren't fearing some supernatural turn of events that would send their world into a spiral of chaos once more.
As that dreaded holiday had passed, Eames had gone to New York for a short job that was meant to be over by the New Year, while Arthur had left to visit with family. The promise had been to ring in the New Year together, both determined to spend a holiday together without it bringing about thoughts of death and kidnapping.
They'd decided on New York, and Eames had assured Arthur he'd have everything ready by the time he arrived. In truth, Arthur should have been a bit suspicious at the smile the forger had given, the way he'd bounced on the balls of his feet with his hands clasped behind his back as he saw the point man off at the security gate.
He should have been afraid.
He'd started by renting a loft that overlooked Central Park. It was an elegant and open space with vaulted ceilings and floor to ceiling windows. Beyond the city twinkled, and while there was no snow on the ground to speak of, Eames was not letting that deter him. He hadn't had a Christmas, not since his youth and there was nothing he was leaving out when he had this chance to make a holiday special for him and Arthur.
The tree was delivered on Christmas Eve. By the time he returned from a night of arguing the end game with the extractor, he found the tree standing by the window. Alongside were three cardboard boxes and the lights were already twined about the tree. The scent of pine filled the room, boxes and boxes of pine boughs and wreaths waiting to be hung. A shame there was no chimney for stockings hung with care.
Between work, which ended up being a two hours job that had ended in nothing, and decorating the loft for Arthur's arrival, Eames had forgotten about things that tended to be cruel reminders every Christmas.
Like the loss of his mother when he was just ten and not learning for nearly four years that she had endured with cancer for two years before her death. Or the fact that his father had never recovered from her death, and that while the official cause of death was heart failure he'd known all along what it was. A broken heart.
None of that had been in his thoughts though as he cranked up music, blaring Christmas carols that he hadn't listened to since his childhood. Songs of comfort and joy, or Santa visiting, and of halls decked with holly.
He'd offered to meet Arthur at the airport, and yet understood that with the way holiday flights could be delayed, it might mean waiting for hours as one flight after another was cancelled, and so he had stayed home at Arthur's request, preparing last minute things.
Like removing the meal from take away containers and putting them in elegant bowls and crystal servicing dishes the caterer had provided. The table was set, situated to both face the window and the tree. Ivory linen and cream colored china with fine trims of gold that caught the light of the room and tossed it around the room.
The tree shimmered and glittered with lights and baubles, loaded with balls and bows and the metallic glint of tinsel that was picked up in the swags of pine that lined the upper edge of the windows and traced the frame of the door.
The truth was, Eames had gone over the top. He had spared no expense and left no idea that came to him behind. He wanted Christmas. He wanted them to not think about ghosts and death and all that had haunted them for the last year.
The chime of the doorbell interrupted the cheerful strains of "Jingle Bell Rock" and Eames smiled as he paused to light the candles on the table. Nodding to his own reflection in the window, feeling that the slacks and sweater were more than enough, he crossed the festive space of the loft to open the door.
In rushed Pippa and James Cobb, the brother's hand held tight in his sister's gloved grasp.
"OH. My. God. Arthur! It's Christmas all over again," she squeed, racing around the room. "Arthur, you didn't tell me we were having Christmas!'
Eames stood there, stunned. Arthur, to his benefit, looked entirely shell shocked as he stood there with not only his bag, but one bag each for the children as well.
"He called this morning. I think… I don't know, he didn't sound well. What was I supposed to do," he asked, his words apologetic without once saying that he was. Eames didn't need him to say it. He could see it in Arthur's eyes.
"You were supposed to warn me so I could buy them presents," he said, reaching for the children's bags. "But we'll work it out," he said, stepping back so that Arthur could come in.
It didn't matter that they had the children for their holiday. Not when he saw the look in Arthur's eyes as he took in all that Eames had done. That was more than enough.
Dropping the kid's bags into the guest room, he came out, pondering if they should just order pizza or if the children would enjoy duck and roasted vegetable.
He paused, watching them race around the table while Arthur blew out the candles.
Right. Pizza it was.