Prompt Post No. 11
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"Yay!" He took off upstairs.
Arthur followed and found him waiting, not so patiently, outside Arthur's room.
"Be my guest." Arthur swung the door open for him.
Jack surged inside and flew around the room looking at everything, opening drawers and checking out the closet and squinting at Arthur's books stacked up on the bedside table.
His forehead wrinkled. "How does it get so neat?"
Arthur shrugged. "I have a system."
Jack contemplated that a moment. "Can I have a system too?"
"Really?" Arthur said dubiously.
"Please!"
Arthur let Jack drag him across the hall to his room, and, yeah, it totally cried out for a system. They set to work sorting through all Jack's toys and books and assorted junk. Arthur expected him to get sick of it after about five minutes, but Jack seemed to find it fascinating to think about what he needed the most and how he used his things and where would be the best place to store everything. They spent the rest of the afternoon organizing, and Arthur got so caught up in it that he completely forget to consider whether he should try to make something for dinner, a topic he suspected had been covered somewhere in items four through seven on Eames's list.
He didn't think about it again until he heard the door open and close downstairs, and Eames called out, "Anybody home? Or has everyone run away to join the circus?"
"Up here, Daddy!" Jack shouted back excitedly. "You have to come and see!"
Eames appeared in the doorway a moment later, his tie loose, briefcase in hand, looking scruffier but just as gorgeous as he had when he'd left for work that morning. At the sight of the room's newly imposed order, his eyes widened almost comically.
Jack ran to him, and Eames hugged him. "I would ask what you did today, but I don't have to, do I?"
"It's a system," Jack proudly informed him.
"Darling, I'd say it's more of a miracle." Eames fixed a look of utter amazement on Arthur.
"Um." Arthur felt like he should assure Eames that his had been Jack's idea, that Arthur hadn't cowed him into being free child labor all afternoon, but he wasn't quite sure how to phrase it.
Anyway, the soft smile Eames was directing his way didn't exactly look accusatory.
"Come on, Daddy. I want to show you everything." Jack pulled at the sleeve of Eames's jacket.
"Don't leave out a detail, sweetheart," Eames said, brushing a kiss to the top of Jack's head.
Jack didn't. He pointed out absolutely everything, down to the last sock.
"Me and Arthur did it all," he said, smiling brightly.
"Arthur and I," Eames told him.
"No, me and Arthur, Daddy. You were at work all day." He started giggling.
"A comedian, eh?" Eames blew a raspberry onto his neck, and Jack giggled even harder. "What do you think two blokes who've worked this hard should have for dinner?"
"Pizza!"
Eames smiled at the completely unsurprising answer. "Go get the menu, love."
Jack made victory arms. "Yay!" And zoomed away.
"He wanted to see my room," Arthur explained once he and Eames were alone, "and when I mentioned that I had a system, he-"
Eames nodded, looking amused. "Wanted to be just like you? Yes, I feel quite certain he will have declared himself a film studies major before the week is out."
Arthur ducked his head, not because he was blushing, because that would be stupid. "I guess we should-" He moved toward the door.
"Arthur." Eames stopped him with a hand at the small of his back. "It's easy to see that Jack had a perfectly splendid time today. Thank you for that. It means a great deal to me."
Eames's hand was big and warm and weighty, and Arthur had to swallow before he could say, "I had fun too."
This earned him a wide, pleased smile.
"Daddy!"
"Coming, darling."
Arthur could still feel the ghost of Eames's touch on his back as they headed downstairs.
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THIS FIC IS THE CUTEST THING BASICALLY EVER. <33333
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sadkfjdsa;kd this is so stupidly hot, i'm like quivering. i want them to start moving all Arthur's things into the master bedroom already, oh my gosh. *___*
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This is giving me chronic heart palpitations. Will I survive the entirety of this?
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I envy Arthur berry much and i think i'm not alone at this point. Who doesn't dream of being Louis Hardy's babysitter? @___@
This is like a dream-come-true, on the fiction side.
I'm so addicted! Please keep writing ♥
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***
Arthur turned a page of The Cognitive Semiotics of Film, less than two chapters left to go. In the four days he'd lived in the Eames household, he'd gotten more research done than in the entire last month of school.
Sounds of hilarity floated up from downstairs. Some of it was from Jack. Arthur's mouth curved into a smile. He wondered what they were doing, and then remembered he really shouldn't care, and he pressed his mouth into a serious line as he went back to the page.
Eames had been as good as his word about leaving Arthur his evenings free. They'd settled into a comfortable routine. Eames brought dinner home with him, or they ordered something, and after they'd eaten, he took charge of Jack. Arthur went up to his room usually and broke out his books and notes.
A fresh wave of giggling slipped in under the door. Arthur rubbed the bridge of his nose. Read the same paragraph three times.
Last night, he'd gone downstairs for a bottle of water and found them gathered at the kitchen table with what looked to be about a billion Legos. Jack had very studiously applied a piece to the roofline.
"Like this, Daddy? Is this like yours?"
"Darling, no one could ever tell them apart."
"Arthur, look!" Jack had beamed proudly. "It's just like Daddy's building. Do you want to come and help me build the parking garage?"
"I, uh-" Arthur hesitated. He really had kind of wanted to, but he thought he should probably let them have their time together and not intrude.
Eames had slid an arm around Jack and leaned in and said confidentially, "What did we talk about?"
"Arthur's busy, and he can't come and play," Jack had said in a singsong. "Am I going to have that much homework when I'm big?" His forehead pinched with concern.
"Only if you're as academically inclined as Arthur here." Eames's gaze had met Arthur's warmly.
"Okay," Jack had said quickly. "I'll take the homework."
Eames had smiled broadly.
Arthur pulled his laptop closer and frowned at his notes. He could hear Eames and Jack coming up the stairs and heading for Jack's room. Bedtime. He typed in another sentence. Frowned some more.
Jack was insistent about being read a story or three before allowing himself to be tucked in, and another half hour went by before Arthur heard Eames head back along the hall and downstairs. Quiet descended then. Once Jack was in bed, he was pretty good about actually going to sleep.
The last sentence Arthur had written really didn't make any sense at all, and he went back, took another stab at it. The tap-tap of the keys sounded thunderous in the stillness. Even after his edits, the point still wasn't very clear. It was just way too quiet. Arthur wasn't used to so much silence. How was he supposed to think?
He grabbed up his computer and his notes and went downstairs.
Usually Eames holed up in his study when he brought work home with him, but tonight Arthur found him with his plans spread out over the desk in the living room, sprawled in the chair, studying them with a quizzical wrinkle to his forehead. Music wafted softly from the stereo speakers. Arthur distantly recognized it as Thelonious Monk.
"Uh, sorry," Arthur told him. "I didn't meant to-I'll just-"
Eames waved him off. "Don't be ridiculous, Arthur. I think we can manage to share the living room. This is your home too, after all."
That shouldn't have made Arthur just ridiculously pleased. It really shouldn't at all.
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And let me add that I can sense UST filled evenings in the future and that pleases me greatly! ILU and your speedy updates SFM! EEEE. <3
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