HELLO IT IS TIME FOR A FLUFF TROPE FEST OF EPIC PROPORTIONS
THE PROBLEM: INCEPTION FANDOM, SOMETIMES YOU ARE SO ANGSTY I CAN'T HANDLE YOU. And I cannot get enough of fluff, the shameless, self-indulgent kind. Fic where they cuddle. Fic where they hold hands. Fic where one of them can't sleep without using the other as a pillow. Fic where Eames calls Arthur every pet name in the book. Fic where Eames tries
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Arthur tended to sleep on Eames's side of the bed, wearing one of his T-shirts on the occasions where work dragged Eames to some corner of the globe that it didn't make sense for Arthur to follow. It was a wrench, he slept fitfully at best, but sometimes a person has to make allowances for others. Sometimes.
Eames had only been gone for two nights--not even long enough for Arthur to start experimenting with sheep counting or warm milk. He'd gotten a couple of hours each night and he was ragged but not wretched.
So he was a little surprised when he heard his living room window open in the middle of the night. He grabbed one of the guns in his underwear drawer and crept silently down the hallway, avoiding the creaks in the floorboards.
A handful of seconds later and he had his gun against the temple of his intruder.
"Ah," said a familiar voice. "I see now how this plan might have some problems."
"Eames?!" Arthur said, pulling the cord on the lamp next to him.
Eames looked awful. There were giant bags under his eyes and unshaven scruff and general unkempt-ness in every particular.
"Look, right," he started to babble, grabbing Arthur by the shoulders, "It's your fault, isn't it? And I wouldn't have even--but you've, like, infected me with it or something--and you should bloody well take responsibility for your actions!"
Arthur frowned. "I've...infected you? With what?"
Eames threw his hands up. "This awful sleeping business, alright? Do you know, I've never had trouble with sleep before--in my entire life?"
Understanding began to dawn. "Eames. Have you slept at all since I last saw you?"
Eames pulled Arthur towards him and dropped his head into the crook of his neck. "No."
Arthur patted his head. "Just come to bed, then. We'll sort the rest out in the morning."
Eames kissed the bit of Arthur that was nearest--behind his ear--and murmured, "God, yes."
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NOTHING SAYS I LOVE YOU MORE THAN BREAKING INTO YOUR OWN HOUSE BECAUSE YOU CAN'T SLEEP
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OH MY GOD A SEQUEL TO THE *JOY OF MY LIFE* OH MY GOD SDAKLFJLDS;FJKLDSD
sldkjfklajfdk eames, ARTHUR NEEDS TO PAT YOUR HEAD SOME MORE AND THEN IN THE MORNING AFTER YOU HAVE BOTH GOTTEN IN A GOOD SHARE OF CUDDLING, THE TWO OF YOU CAN EXAMINE WHY YOUR SUBCONSCIOUS ENJOYS SLEEPING WITH ARTHUR *_________*
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SCREAM OH MY GOD WHERE DID THIS COME FROM IT IS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL THING IN THE WORLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLD *_________*
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I may never get over chibi tattoos.
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