Hoshit, a kissing meme!
There are all kinds of kissing out there: slow kisses, small kisses, kisses that say good-bye, kisses that bring you home, kisses that bring you to that final moment where everything comes to a head. Porny kisses, fluffy kisses, Eskimo kisses, angry kisses, and kisses full of want and longing. THEY ARE ALL AWESOME. And you should write them all
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Arthur was in the middle of the supermarket trying to choose between neapolitan (pros: all three flavours, simple and classic; cons: sometimes he wasn't in the mood for strawberry) and chocolate chip cookie dough (pros: delicious; cons: salmonella) ice cream. He raised an eyebrow at his own reflection in the freezer door.
"Why?" was all he asked.
"Because," Cobb said, "he called me about an hour ago and was talking crazy. I think he was high. Does Eames do drugs? He looks like a drug user to me."
"You think everyone looks like a drug user," Arthur said, finally deciding on chocolate chip cookie dough and putting a pint into his basket. "Or a pedophile."
"According to the internet registry, there are four sex offenders in my neighbourhood," Cobb informed him, for the tenth time.
"I know, I was there when you explained to Phillipa why she was no longer allowed to play outside," Arthur pointed out. He headed for the yogurt aisle. "Anyway, Eames doesn't do drugs."
He didn't add he knew that not because of his unparalleled information-gathering skills, but because he had once, after a job, offered to share his weed with Eames, and Eames had lectured him for half an hour on how pot could rot your brain. And Eames complained Arthur was uptight.
"What was Eames saying?" he asked.
"He was going on about how he didn't want to have regrets, and how the inception job made him realize he had some, and then he asked me for your address and what kind of flowers you like. I told him you don't like flowers, because of, uh, what was his name, Mike--"
"Matt," Arthur corrected, picking up a six pack of strawberry yogurt.
"--so Eames asked me what kinds of guns you like, instead."
"Did you give him my address?"
"I didn't at first," Cobb said, "but then he called me back six times, so I gave it to him to shut him up."
Arthur sighed. "Sometimes I wonder how either of us are still alive."
He thought about the chance Eames was asking about these things and wouldn't already be waiting outside Arthur's apartment, especially since Arthur knew for a fact he and Eames were in the same city right now. Arthur may have -- for security purposes, of course -- followed Eames at LAX to make sure the man left the airport. He decided the chances were very slim, and he would probably have a guest for dinner.
"I should probably go home," he said, after a minute.
He hung up, paid for his groceries, and calmly walked down the street to his apartment. When he got to his door, sure enough, Eames was waiting outside in the hall. He had a bouquet of roses and a box of chocolate tucked under his arm. He did look sort of crazy, like maybe he hadn't slept since they'd left the plane twelve days ago; his hair was sticking up in places, and he looked like he hadn't shaved in a while.
Arthur paused at his door and just looked at Eames with a flat expression, until Eames said, "Hello, darling. Happy to see me again so soon?"
However, without waiting for a response, Eames swooped in and pressed their lips together. Had it been anyone else, Arthur would have decked them, but Eames licked into Arthur's mouth a lot more carefully than Arthur would have expected from him, and their tongues slid together in a way that made Arthur catch his breath, his heart hammering in his ears. And then it was over before Arthur even had a chance to figure out what was happening.
"What the hell?" Arthur asked, clutching his canvas shopping bag in one hand. He licked his lips, feeling a bit dazed. "Why are you here? Cobb said--"
"I have come," Eames announced, "to sweep you off your feet."
"No," Arthur said. "No, you haven't."
Eames deflated a little, and Arthur felt bad. But then he eyed the roses and the chocolates, and he said, disappointed, "I was really hoping for a new gun."
Eames leered. "Do you want to check to see if I have one in my pocket, or if it's just me happy to see you?"
"I hate myself for being attracted to you," Arthur said, and then he pulled Eames into his apartment by his shirt.
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AAAAAAGH OMG PERFECT SO PERFECT IT'S LIKE ONE OF THOSE THINGS THAT EVERYONE KNOWS BUT NO ONE'S SAID YET, AND NOW YOU'VE SAID IT AND IT'S PERFECT.
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OH THE ~~~~ROMANCE~~~~
Basically, stoner!Arthur owns me forever.
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*DIES* Incredible.
I love Arthur in the grocery store. I'm not sure why this is a kink for me, but it entirely wonderful everytime. Especially when he makes Very Important Decisions. Like icecream flavors.
I hope he bought cookie dough because it seems like the sort of thing Eames would like. And then they can eat it in bed together.
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sometimes i read your fics and wonder what kind of farcical sacrifices to the gods of tragicomedy were made to bring you into the world.
oh, arthur. your life is so very very hard.
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BEST LINE EVER. Oh, Arthur, please never change. :D ♥
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THIS FOREVER. No, really, this was adorable and I made flaily hands at it. :)
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He didn't add he knew that not because of his unparalleled information-gathering skills, but because he had once, after a job, offered to share his weed with Eames, and Eames had lectured him for half an hour on how pot could rot your brain. And Eames complained Arthur was uptight.
-- this. and how Eames bothered Cobb (lol and i love love lahv you Dom!) and Arthur being disappointed at the lack of a new gun and--oh, Eames. OH, ARTHUR! (yeah, it should probably start bothering me that this is my reaction to nearly 95% of the fic in this fandom, but wth it sums up everything i feel about these men.)
/spazz
PS. djgkhskjghskgsjkhk ♥
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