RIGHT. I CAVE.
As seen, um, all over my flist. (rebootuniverse, pyroclastic)
Give me a character/pairing and a word, and I will write you one sentence* of fic.
I have to be able to finish that, right?
* May actually be more than one sentence.
Give me a character/pairing and a word, and I will write you one sentence* of fic.
I have to be able to finish that, right?
* May actually be more than one sentence.
Eames pauses, foot shoved half in his uncomfortable dress shoe. They are so, so very late. "What?" he asks, scrubbing at the sleep in his eyes. Arthur hits him in the face with a rolled up pair of socks. "Oh. Thank you, darling."
Arthur is fastening his cufflinks and refusing to look up from his task. His hair is still a mess and his bowtie hanging loose around his neck. "Just making sure you don't get cold feet," he says, with a twist to his mouth, always too fond of terrible puns.
Eames has never wanted anything as much as he wants to kiss Arthur, right then, morning breath and all. He trips in his haste, shoe still only half on, and crashes into the Arthur so hard it would've pulled them both down if Arthur's shoulders hadn't hit the wall. "I could never," he tells Arthur's chin very seriously, before kissing the place where Arthur nicked himself shaving.
Arthur laughs, and elbows him hard to get him back on his own feet. Eames has no idea where his jacket has gone. "We are so late," Arthur says, then stops to kiss him anyway, filthy and slow. "I can't believe you forgot to set the alarm."
"Well," Eames says, fingers curling into the not-yet-tucked tails of Arthur's shirt, "it's not like they can start without us. Besides," he adds, so much softer than he intended to, "I've got you to remind me of things."
"Fair enough," Arthur grants on a laugh.
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