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It was a Saturday morning. Wait- was it Saturday?
Yes. Yes, Saturday was the day after Friday and Friday was the night he and Arthur had decided to get absolutely plastered before tumbling their way back to Arthur’s place.
So, yep. Definitely Saturday. And they definitely did get plastered after all if the splintering light probing through his eyelids, drilling rudely into his brain, was anything to go by.
He scrunched his eyes away and brought his arm up to cover them.
Ok, so no more drinking ever. This time he meant it for sure.
It took tremendous time and effort, but finally, finally he managed to peel his eyes open…
…Only to find himself immediately blinking at the sight in front of him.
Then he blinked again.
And again.
And then once more for good measure, to no change.
See, he was expecting when he woke up, after spending a lovely night with Arthur in Arthur’s own bed, to be greeted by the sight of Arthur and his very flattering morning after face.
Instead he was face to face with a furry little fiend who was making itself right at home in the spot Arthur was supposed to be laying in.
“You’re a lot hairier than I remember, darling, I must say.” The cat merely purred in response, nuzzling itself further into the sheet as it looked at Eames expectedly.
It was a very cute little creature. Fur a smoky grey cloud and eyes a milky brown, locked onto Eames’ in some sort of staring contest he absolutely did not want to lose.
Definitely the type of cat Eames could see Arthur owning, that’s for sure.
He brought his fingers up to the cats head, getting permission to go ahead as it brushed it's furry little nose against the tips of Eames' fingers.
“Friendly little bugger, aren’t you?” He reached behind the things ears and gave them a good scratch before he made his way up and out of the bed. “Dont know where you get it from if you truly are Arthurs.”
Minor snide out of the way, he left the room in search of the man who should have been occupying the (not so) empty space.
He made his way to the living room with all the grace of a slug as the boundless hallway finally came to an end.
At first glance there was no Arthur in sight, but Eames didn’t think much of it.
“You know, in hindsight, I should've guessed you were a cat person.” Eames called into the kitchen. “Although it is difficult to picture you being domestic with any furry little devil, not just a cat.”
Silence answered him. “What’s the matter, darling? Cat got your tongue?”
… Still nothing.
“Arthur?” he poked his head into the kitchen area only to be greeted by absolutely nothing. Not even the coffee maker had any hint of being used.
That was a little alarming but Eames wasn’t going to jump to any conclusions just yet.
It could very well be that Arthur decided to treat him to breakfast this morning.
He’s probably on his way back right now, two cups of joe in hand and whatever sweet treat had caught his eye this time.
Still he could have left a note, or even just woke Eames up.
What if Arthur picks a treat that Eames absolutely despises? What if he got his coffee order wrong? Or brought him something with nuts?
Not that he was allergic or anything. Eames just had preferences, that’s all.
He’d better give him a call just to make sure.
Eames thumbed around in his memory for where he left his phone before catching sight of it on the counter. He scooped it up and quickly went for Arthur’s number.
And then it rang.
And rang.
And rang some more…
Until finally-
“If you've got this number, you know what to do.” Followed by a long monotonous beep.
Short. Curt. Could not be more straight to the point if he tried. How very Arthur.
He hung up and dialled again.
“If you've got this number, you know what to do.” The beep sounded off again, leaving Eames the stage.
“Hello, love. Just checking in. I woke up to a rather unexpected guest this morning, you know.” Eames gave a chuckle hoping it didn't seem as forced as it felt. “Unless of course this is your way of telling me that was you, in which case, we may need to have a chat.
Although the cat’s far more cuddly than you ever are, that's for sure. Not that I'm complaining, darling. You know I wouldn't change a single prickly little hair on your head.”
Eames attention was turned to the sudden pitter patter of feet, making their way down the hallway
“Ah, speak of the devil. Hello, mini Arthur.” He crouched to the cat's level and beady little eyes stared straight into his own.
If Eames didn't know better, he could've sworn this cat was listening to him. Waiting for something.
Then again, he is a cat. Isn't that what people say cats are like?
“Right, I will love you and leave you my dear. Give us a ring back when you can, yeah? I'll be here when you get back from…well, wherever you bloody well are I guess. Bye now. Bye”
He sent off the message and put his phone away, letting his attention fall back on his new feline friend.
“Guess it's just the two of us, little man. Little lady? We’ll just call you little kitty for now. How about that.” The kitty does not look impressed with that decision.
Its brown eyes were completely focussed on Eames.
He swayed from side to side, the dual pools of chocolate tracking him the whole time without missing a beat.
“You’re a curious little creature aren’t you.” It merely meowed in response.
Whether in agreement, or for a completely unrelated reason, Eames couldn't say.
“Well, what say we go channel flipping while we wait for Arthur to get in touch, eh?” The cat seemed to be way ahead of him though, as it headed off and promptly parked itself on the couch directly in front of the tv.
Where it proceeded to wait for him, those copper orbs landing on him once again. Expectedly.
“I’ll take that as a yes then…” He cautiously made his way to the sofa, joining the world's most self aware cat and setting up the tv.
He spent the next 30 minutes or so flipping back and forth through multiple channels with nothing catching his eye.
They ended up landing on a nature documentary.
Something about woodland critters with Mr Attenborough guiding them through the brutal affairs of the animal kingdom.
This was definitely Arthur's type of thing. The same Arthur who still hadn't called him back or walked through the door.
Eames took his phone out and pondered at it for a good few minutes. This would be the third call within an hour.
It’s not like Eames is overtly worried. He’s known Arthur for many years now, their relationship only recently becoming more intimate, and he knows the man can take care of himself.
The problem is, he cares about Arthur. And he worries about the people he cares about, those two things just come hand in hand.
So while he's confident nothing has happened to the man that has him smitten to the sun and back, he would much rather just have the confirmation of his assured safety.
He doesn't think that's too unreasonable.
A look to his side and he saw the kitty was also staring intently at the phone. Almost daring him to do it.
Eames blinked twice and finally made his decision, getting Arthur's contact up.
The cat’s attention had returned to the tv, where a rabbit was currently playing tag with a fox, when Eames pressed the call button.
“If you’ve got this number, you know what to do.” BEEP
“I fear I’m going to be intimately familiar with your voicemail by the end of the night, love. Apologies in advance. I'm sitting with your cat right now, darling, and I have to say, it's like you're in the room with me. Rather unsettling actually.”
He chanced a glance down at said cat, whose eyes were still glued to the tv screen.
“I mean, is that just a rule with cats? Do they turn into little mini me’s of whoever their owner is? I’ve no clue, I grew up surrounded by dogs.
But if that's the case, maybe I should get a little kitty or two of my own, eh? You can have multiple me’s running around. Means you’d never be rid of me. I bet you’d love that.
Anyways, call me when you can. I’ll be camping out in your house until you come here personally to kick me out, so just know that. Right, cheerio then.” Voicemail sent.
What to do now, though. That was the question.
What he needed was something to distract him for a good few hours.
Looking at the tv and seeing two beetles rolling a big ol 'ball of dung up a hill certainly wasn't doing the trick, as much as it seemed to be effective against his furry little friend. Sleepy eyes still locked onto the screen.
Eames picked the remote back up and continued surfing through, hoping a movie or something would catch his eye.
Friends were always on repeat, that would be perfect right now.
He was almost going to call off his bets when his eyes came upon the perfect film for the job.
One that Arthur would never let him watch in a million years thanks to his disdain for the lead actor.
Transporter 2.
Oh thank you merciful heaven.
He wasted no time putting it on, getting ready to waste an easy 2 hours of his life, only to be scared six feet in the air by a shrill hiss coming from beside him, the remote flying out of his hand.
Mini-Arthur had suddenly sprung up, a shrill hiss coming from it as he stared daggers towards the tv.
Eames was momentarily in shock, not understanding the problem at first before he had a sudden though.
He picked the remote back up, flipping the channel away from the titillating action of Jason Statham.
Immediately the cat calmed down. Not before giving one last glare at Eames.
A glare that Eames was sure he'd been on the receiving end of multiple times before.
But surely not. Yeah, the cat was weird but there's about a million different reasons before he should jump to that conclusion.
He flipped it back to Jason, the hissing started up again.
He flipped away, the cat was silent
Hiss
Silent
Hiss
..silent. There really was no way
Eames doesn't know exactly what it was that prompted him to say the next word that came from his mouth, isn't sure exactly what was going through his mind that he thought he needed to clarify this ridiculous, literally impossible possibility.
But it does, and he does
He looked at the cat, took a deep breath as a single name slipped passed his lips.
“...Arthur?”
Two chocolate orbs turned to face him. Eames picked up the phone.
~~~
“If you've got this number, you know what to do.”
~~~
“Arthur, darling. I’m going to need you to pick up the phone so I can stop my mind from even going remotely near what I am currently thinking has happened, because it couldn't have happened.
It can’t be what happened because that's not possible and people aren't cats and can't just become cats, because that's not how real life works and this is definitely real life
So, if you could just call me back and stop staring at me with these little cat eyes that would be great, love.”
~~~
“If you've got this number, you know what to do.”
~~~
“Alright. I get it. This is a prank! You bought a cat and trained it to hate Jason Statham and love nerdy documentaries, and scowl at me just like you love to.
It’s very impressive, darling. I'm very flattered by all the effort that went into this, but I've figured it out now.
So really there’s no point in continuing it, right, Arthur? No, not you, you little devil. You’re not Arthur and you're not fooling me-”
~~~
“If you've got this number, you know what to do.”
~~~
“Arthur, I'm at my wits end here. If you really are this bloody cat I swear I'll throw you into a bag and hurl you over the nearest bridge.
…
Okay, I obviously won't do that, but I'll bloody well do something! I mean, what the shitting christ am I supposed to do with you like this?
Nothing. That's what, because we won't need to do anything. Because you are not a cat.
Now stop being a prat and call me back so I can stop seriously considering this has actually happened, thank you.
Bye. Call me back.
..Bye.”
He slammed his phone down, not with anger but he definitely wasn't calm right now.
He seriously doesn't know what would be better, if Arthur had actually, genuinely, honest to god turned into a cat, or if he really was just AWOL.
Unconsciously, he found himself frantically twiddling his poker chip between his fingers.
It didn't matter how many times he repeated it, the edges always felt the same.
This wasn't a dream, and that means Arthur could NOT be a cat.
He turns back to Arthur- no, not Arthur. Arthur's cat, because Arthur is not. A. Cat.
Eames was just longing that's all.
He turned back to Arthur's cat who was still sitting staring at him. Those copper eyes almost speaking to him. Daring.
“Alright. Let's say you really are Arthur. What am I supposed to do with this information?” The cat tilts its head.
“I mean, how do we make you not a cat.” Not that he is a cat,
“Did you piss off an old book keeper or something? Do you need to find true loves rose or whatever those disney flicks do?? Because if that's the case, you're on your own, love.”
Eames stopped trying to guess whether or not this cat was actually understanding him.
Instead he just accepted that this feline, whether Arthur or not, was smarter than the average cat.
So when he watched it daintily jump from the table and lead him into the bedroom, he didn't even waste time questioning it and simply followed in its tiny little tracks.
When he made it to the bed, he spotted Arthur cat circling around the same spot, kneading the silk sheets, before plopping its little body down, seemingly satisfied. And then it closed its eyes.
And Eames… was at a loss.
He felt like he was going crazy. Did he really think the cat was leading him somewhere?
Was that so out of order considering everything this cat had been able to do so far?
Where was Arthur?????
The cat suddenly opened its eyes and gazed at him, blinking once, twice, then once more, before they slipped closed once again.
And for some inexplicable reason, Eames knew what the four footed little feline was wanting him to do.
Eames took a deep breath before sinking into the bed.
“You know what, Arthur cat? You’ve got the right idea. Maybe a nap will do us both good.”
He lay there, not confident he’d even be able to try and sleep.
Yet somehow, against all odds, he actually found his eyelids slipping closed, tugging him closer to sleep and blissfully away from this terribly confusing day.
And that was when his phone started ringing.
He jolted upright, scrambling for the mobile not even bothering to check the number.
“Hello?!” He felt breathless, waiting for however many agonizing seconds it took before he heard the most beautiful of angelic voices chime in from the other side.
“Eames..? Are you alright? Why do you sound like you've been running?”
It’s Arthur. Of course it’s Arthur, who else would it be? A mixture of emotions swaddled him suddenly.
Relief, happiness, adoration, shame, embarrassment…
Eames looks back to the cat innocently burrowing its way into the bed.
The cat who is absolutely not Arthur because how would that even work if this wasn't a dream. “Arthur.”
“...Yes? Oh, right. The unknown number.” the wha? “Sorry, my battery died so I needed to use the spare. I know the job was supposed to be no contact anyway-” the job?? “- but there's been a change of plans. Incompetent co-workers and zero background check means the job’s off.
Waste of the time the whole thing.” Eames could picture the face he was making whilst saying that. “I’ll be home in a few hours.”
Home. Arthur will be home from a job that was no contact, that Eames had apparently been told about, in a few hours.
Arthur, his boyfriend. Who was most definitely, positively not, and never had been, a cat.
Ohhh Eames really needed to stop drinking.
“Eames? You're unusually quiet. Is something wrong?” Absolutely nothing was wrong, Eames was just currently drowning in the realisation of the past several hours. “You’re still at the house, aren’t you?”
The hint of apprehension in his voice tugged Eames from his current spiral of self loathing.
He was so caught up in his thoughts he hadn't even registered Arthur referring to his home as ‘the house’ rather than simply, ‘my house’.
“What? Of course I’m still here. I’ve just been.. Getting acquainted with your roommate. I’ll see you in a couple hours.” There was silence on Arthur’s end.
Eames could practically hear the questions piling up in Arthur's mind, but thankfully he refrained.
Maybe he heard the weariness in Eames’ voice.
“Alright, if you're sure. See you in a couple hours, then.”
“Yeah. Oh, and Arthur?”
“Yes?”
“We need to talk.”
~~~
A Couple Hours Later
~~~
“Are you being serious right now.” Arthur’s Dead pan response was about what Eames was expecting to be honest.
Arthur had returned home, just as he said he would, and Eames had carefully informed him that he had absolutely zero recollection of any conversation to do with a no contact, apparently week long, job upstate.
“Deadly, Darling. I'm afraid I partied a little too close to the sun last night.”
“Do you not remember the reason why you insisted on us going out last night in the first place?” It seems Arthur was starting to see humour in the situation if the slight quirk of his lips was anything to go by. Thank god.
“I insisted? I thought we just decided to have a good night together. A sort of practice for the anniversaries to come, if you will.” Smooth, Mr Eames. Very smooth.
To Eames' surprise, Arthur let out a breath of laughter. Which, to Eames’ ears, may as well have been a full blown cackle.
“No, it wasn't a practice. You found out about the job and wanted to take me out since it would be a while till we saw each other again.” Oh, it's all coming back to him now, that's right.
He wanted to give Arthur a night to remember before they were to lart for the whole week.
Except, not only did he himself momentarily forget about it, but he remembers now that when they eventually made it back to Arthur's place, he almost immediately crashed out as soon as he hit the mattress.
Real smooth.
“It was rather romantic, all things considered.” Arthur swooped in closer to Eames then, hands softly bracing his shoulders. “You know, minus the black out drunk thing you had going on.”
Eames’ own reacted almost on instinct, locking around Arthur's waist. “It definitely takes back the sentiment a little doesn't it. But we all have our faults, don't we dearest?” He egged.
“Like erasing a whole evening together that you planned and forgetting about your boyfriends work-”
“Well, alright, I admit I buggered it up a bit by forgetting your little special ops mission-” He interrupted, ignoring the irritation in Arthur's raised eyebrow at that, “- but I would've remembered eventually. And besides, we're talking about you now. What kind of boyfriend doesn’t tell his lover that he has a cat?”
Arthur had the nerve to look baffled at this, almost as though Eames had said the most ridiculous thing. If only Arthur had heard him earlier.
“What are you talking about? I tell you about Delilah all the time.”
Delilah? That does sound familiar, but… Delilah..
Delilah...
…Hang on.
“Delilah?!”
See, Delilah was a name that came up many times throughout their life together.
Pretty much any information Arthur shared about his own personal life included her.
“You'd love Delilah. She always wants to be the centre of attention”
“I'll have to check in with Delilah, I don't like leaving her alone. I hate worrying her.”
“She’s someone very important to me. I’d like you to meet her soon.
And yet in all the times she’d been brought up, Arthur apparently never thought it important to mention one vital little detail about her it seemed.
Perhaps he should've connected the dots, seeing as there was, in fact, no sister to be seen and there was, in fact, a cat on the grounds.
But if Eames couldn't even remember the night before, no chance he would've put all that together.
“Do you seriously not remember? Is this your way of telling me that you don’t listen, Eames? because I'm not impressed.” One look at his face confirmed that much.
“Of course I remember her. It's just, with the way you talk about her I assumed she was a sister or- something! Not a bloody cat!” He could barely hold back the chuckle that made its way past his mouth
There was a slight blush tinting across Arthur's cheeks as he looked away. “She's not a ‘bloody cat’, she's part of the family... I guess I just assumed you would just, um. Get it.” He cleared his throat. “It never really occurred to me to specify.”
Eames felt his smile stretch out even further.
“How very Arthur of you.” He hummed as he pulled Arthur in for a kiss. Their lips met and it was suddenly very easy to forget the last 24 hours had even happened.
They pulled apart when they heard a mewl, followed by the soft thump of four little feet landing on the table beside them.
Eames watched Arthur's face slip into a look of pure content as he parted from him, going to collect the little bundle of fur into his arms.
“You know, you're lucky she likes you. One bad word from her and you'd be out on the streets.”
“Oh trust me, darling,” Eames made his way over, scratching little Delilah's chin and landing a quick peck to Arthur's cheek, “I know exactly how lucky I am.”
~~~
Later that night, when Eames is pottering about in the kitchen and Arthur is in the middle of clearing out his voicemail, Arthur will come into the room and ask Eames a simple, never before, or asked again, question;
“Eames?”
“Yes, darling?"
“Did you think I was the cat?”
The end