If either of you end up eating my fancy napkins I'll be bloody pissed off. [He grins though, and it's kind of a fond, silly little smile as he moves away from the table.] And no, love. You sit here and relax, I'll only be a mo. Sherlock, keep an eye on Arthur for me.
[[Pushing the door to the kitchen open, Eames pauses when it swings shut to breathe, because there's a certain level of nerves coursing through his body because of this. He wants a nice, relaxing evening for his boyfriend, for them to both get something good like this.
Glancing out at the garden and stormy set of clouds brewing, he moves across the room to take his cod stew off the heat, dividing them into bowls of a rich, red colour. He seasons them both, places the garnish on lightly, before picking them up. Navigating his way out, Eames pushes the door open with his hip, fixing Arthur with a smile and setting his before him. He takes the seat diagonally from him, tilting his chair so that he can keep Arthur's gaze, knee nudging his under the table.] Your dinner is served, darling.
You do know that he's the dog, right? [He means to act offended and defensive, but it's ruined by the chuckling, too full of sappy emotions to even pretend to be annoyed.] Oh, all right, I'll behave myself.
[He's still softly chuckling to himself when Eames leaves the room and bends low in the chair to better stroke the dog, roughing up his fur and patting it back down.] We love Daddy, don't we, Sherlock, huh? I always suspected he was a big softy underneath.
[He's still fussing over the dog when Eames returns, but quickly gets him to lie down and settle, sitting up straight and returning the smile.] It looks lovely, thank you. [He purposely knocks their knees together further as he goes to pick up the knife and fork, not bothering with the napkin.] You really didn't need to go to all the effort for me, you know, but I love that you did. [He leans across the short gap between them and kisses Eames' cheek, this time soft and lingering rather than a quick peck.] Thank you.
[Eames only dips his face a little in an almost bashful gesture, shaking his head a little.] I wanted to Arthur, and besides, you look like you're in dire need of a good meal. I'm worried the English constitution doesn't suit you, all that rain when you're used to sunny America. I wouldn't want you fading away, would I?
[He reaches out for one of the rolls, tearing little chunks of bread from it before nodding to Arthur.] Go on, tell me if it's all right. There's still time to order a pizza.
Oh, shut up, you're being ridiculous. [He rolls his eyes fondly, but makes a self-conscious move to glance down at himself with the slightest of frowns, wondering if he isn't as defined as he was before all of this started.]
Can you even order pizza all the way out here? [He faces forward, not having realised that he's been slowly turning sideways at an angle to watch Eames, and pokes at the food, cutting a bit of the fish and bringing it to his mouth, chewing it slowly. He skewers a potato for good measure and pops it into his mouth, looking up with a satisfied smile.] Your cooking, as ever, is wonderful, Mr Eames.
[He sets to work eating the food, stopping to take the odd sip of wine, which compliments it perfectly, and dabbing at his mouth with the napkin while constantly stealing glances at Eames. He knows it's stupid, but the fact so much effort has been gone to for him makes him blush a little, a nervous mass floating around in his stomach, and he feels as if he should have made more effort when he dressed or got flowers.
Smiling and without the usual teasing edge, he asks quietly.] Were you really worried I wouldn't like it?
I suppose you could, if you paid the driver an extortionate amount of money, yes. [With a laugh and a fond roll of his eyes.] I'd risk it though, if you don't don't like it. And oi, don't do that, you're gorgeous. I just want to feed you.
[But still, he seems to relax when Arthur starts enjoying himself, tucking into his food with gusto. After a moment, the rain starts to fall in earnest, pelting against the window while they sit in companionable silence. The little candles flicker and he hums after a moment, taking a sip of the wine before answering.] Sort of? I've never cooked for someone who I'm involved with before. [With a rueful little smile.] I gather it's something of a rite of passage?
[He turns towards the window, watching as the drops of rain that hit the pain start to quickly flood it, and somehow he finds that it adds to the mood. It might be wet and miserable outside, but inside it's warm and peaceful.]
The closest I've come to this is taking a girlfriend to an expensive restaurant, but in comparison the food is considerably better, as is the atmosphere, and the company much preferred, so you're worrying was for nothing. [He puts the knife down and places his hand over Eames' arm, fingers stroking softly.] If it helps, I reacted like a teenage girl on the inside while looking handsome and cool on the outside. Plus, I never realised how much a meal could make me want to throw myself at someone.
Brilliant, I do like when I win points against irrelevant past girlfriends. [He looks a little smug for a moment, twisting his arm into that touch, something fond flickering over his face.] Oh darling, but can you save the ravishing until after dessert?
[Normally he would feel the need to apologise for mentioning past conquests, but the truth is they really were irrelevant, at the time as much as now, but especially now.] Next to you, everyone is irrelevant. [He gives him a sideways glance, as if warning him off, but he ends up smirking.] I'll try, but I won't promise anything.
It's not normally me trying to resist your charms until after a task is complete. [Biting down on his lip before smirking.] What is the world coming to?
The influence you hold over me is clearly starting to slip through the cracks and show itself. [He mocks a sigh, but ends up frowning in thought.] If we figure a way out of this and get back to doing what we do best, maybe we should avoid working together.
[Still thoroughly enjoying every bite of the meal, he smiles down into it and slips off a shoe, running his socked foot up the bottom of Eames' trouser leg, curling his toes against him.] We should do this more often. You and me, romantic gestures. We haven't really had much of a chance so far, but I could get used to this.
Hush your mouth, you expect me to work without you, Arthur? I try not to do that at the best of times. You're still bloody good at it, and I can behave myself. [Adding in a slightly sly grin.] Most of the time.
[ Suppressing a shiver of want at the toes against his shin, Eames' smile becomes something soft and fond.] We should, shouldn't we? I rather like sitting here with you to be honest.
[He lowers his head in a half-hearted chuckle and admits quietly.] It's not you I'm worried about, though. It's me. I know I can be...difficult when we're working a job, but can you imagine how I'll be now that I'm completely and irreversibly invested? If I do manage to keep my hands off you, it won't stop me worrying that something might happen at every turn.
[He glances around the large dinning room with the dated furniture and out through the steamed window, rain still rolling down the outer pane in waves.] I never thought I could feel at home in a place like this, somewhere with so much empty space, but being here with you, as our own little family, I realise now more than ever that it's not about where you are it's about who you're with. [Turning back to face him with a smile, Arthur reaches for his hand and squeezes it.] And it does feel like home. You feel like home.
[Winding their fingers together and giving him a gentle little smile.] Wouldn't you be more worried about me where you couldn't see me, darling? We both know you're the best, you've kept me alive all this time, we make a good team.
And you can take home with you. I'd be by your side at the end of the day, I'd help you unwind all that tension you so clearly carry about in that gorgeous body of yours. We'd be a unit. Forgive me for thinking that's not as bad as it seems.
[[Pushing the door to the kitchen open, Eames pauses when it swings shut to breathe, because there's a certain level of nerves coursing through his body because of this. He wants a nice, relaxing evening for his boyfriend, for them to both get something good like this.
Glancing out at the garden and stormy set of clouds brewing, he moves across the room to take his cod stew off the heat, dividing them into bowls of a rich, red colour. He seasons them both, places the garnish on lightly, before picking them up. Navigating his way out, Eames pushes the door open with his hip, fixing Arthur with a smile and setting his before him. He takes the seat diagonally from him, tilting his chair so that he can keep Arthur's gaze, knee nudging his under the table.] Your dinner is served, darling.
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[He's still softly chuckling to himself when Eames leaves the room and bends low in the chair to better stroke the dog, roughing up his fur and patting it back down.] We love Daddy, don't we, Sherlock, huh? I always suspected he was a big softy underneath.
[He's still fussing over the dog when Eames returns, but quickly gets him to lie down and settle, sitting up straight and returning the smile.] It looks lovely, thank you. [He purposely knocks their knees together further as he goes to pick up the knife and fork, not bothering with the napkin.] You really didn't need to go to all the effort for me, you know, but I love that you did. [He leans across the short gap between them and kisses Eames' cheek, this time soft and lingering rather than a quick peck.] Thank you.
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[He reaches out for one of the rolls, tearing little chunks of bread from it before nodding to Arthur.] Go on, tell me if it's all right. There's still time to order a pizza.
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Can you even order pizza all the way out here? [He faces forward, not having realised that he's been slowly turning sideways at an angle to watch Eames, and pokes at the food, cutting a bit of the fish and bringing it to his mouth, chewing it slowly. He skewers a potato for good measure and pops it into his mouth, looking up with a satisfied smile.] Your cooking, as ever, is wonderful, Mr Eames.
[He sets to work eating the food, stopping to take the odd sip of wine, which compliments it perfectly, and dabbing at his mouth with the napkin while constantly stealing glances at Eames. He knows it's stupid, but the fact so much effort has been gone to for him makes him blush a little, a nervous mass floating around in his stomach, and he feels as if he should have made more effort when he dressed or got flowers.
Smiling and without the usual teasing edge, he asks quietly.] Were you really worried I wouldn't like it?
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[But still, he seems to relax when Arthur starts enjoying himself, tucking into his food with gusto. After a moment, the rain starts to fall in earnest, pelting against the window while they sit in companionable silence. The little candles flicker and he hums after a moment, taking a sip of the wine before answering.] Sort of? I've never cooked for someone who I'm involved with before. [With a rueful little smile.] I gather it's something of a rite of passage?
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The closest I've come to this is taking a girlfriend to an expensive restaurant, but in comparison the food is considerably better, as is the atmosphere, and the company much preferred, so you're worrying was for nothing. [He puts the knife down and places his hand over Eames' arm, fingers stroking softly.] If it helps, I reacted like a teenage girl on the inside while looking handsome and cool on the outside. Plus, I never realised how much a meal could make me want to throw myself at someone.
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[Still thoroughly enjoying every bite of the meal, he smiles down into it and slips off a shoe, running his socked foot up the bottom of Eames' trouser leg, curling his toes against him.] We should do this more often. You and me, romantic gestures. We haven't really had much of a chance so far, but I could get used to this.
Reply
[ Suppressing a shiver of want at the toes against his shin, Eames' smile becomes something soft and fond.] We should, shouldn't we? I rather like sitting here with you to be honest.
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[He glances around the large dinning room with the dated furniture and out through the steamed window, rain still rolling down the outer pane in waves.] I never thought I could feel at home in a place like this, somewhere with so much empty space, but being here with you, as our own little family, I realise now more than ever that it's not about where you are it's about who you're with. [Turning back to face him with a smile, Arthur reaches for his hand and squeezes it.] And it does feel like home. You feel like home.
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And you can take home with you. I'd be by your side at the end of the day, I'd help you unwind all that tension you so clearly carry about in that gorgeous body of yours. We'd be a unit. Forgive me for thinking that's not as bad as it seems.
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