Fic: Saturdays Were Never the Same (Arthur/Eames, NC-17)

[kyasuriin]

Title: Saturdays Were Never the Same
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Sexy times involving rimming. (which might be the opposite of a warning, depending on your taste). 
Summary: There was no way in hell that Eames was staying with him, especially not when Eames was going to be possibly turning into a cat at any moment.
Author's Notes: Written for dream_holiday for five_of_five for the fabulous prompt of: Yusuf did it! An accident in Yusuf's lab or some strange concoction of his leads to hilarious happenings for Arthur and Eames (I mean hilarious for me, it probably won't be for them)

All the hearts go to cmonkatiekatie for all her wizardry.

I hope you enjoy!



“No,” Arthur said. “Not even a chance. Absolutely not. No.”

He thought he was completely clear on the matter. There was no way in hell that Eames was staying with him, especially not when Eames was going to be possibly turning into a cat at any moment.

That bit - the bit about turning into a cat - was less clear. Yusuf had called and explained on the way over, but Arthur hadn’t thought he was serious. He had thought maybe he was drunk or high. It wouldn’t be the first time, after all.

“A cat,” Arthur said.

“Yes,” Yusuf said earnestly from where he was standing, quite sober, in Arthur’s doorway with Eames. “He really can just, you know, turn.”

Eames for his part looked equal measures uncomfortable and vaguely embarrassed even though by all accounts this was entirely Yusuf’s fault.

“He’s a werecat,” Arthur said flatly.

“Well, it’s not full moons or anything. He just - “

And then Yusuf stopped talking because where Eames was standing was now a light brown tabby cat.

“Holy shit,” Arthur said, yelped really, but who could blame him? He wasn’t exactly expecting Eames to actually turn into a cat.

He tuned out Yusuf’s explanations about lab experiments and instead watched as Eames’ tail flicked back and forth as he stood, then sat, in front of Arthur.

“- so he needs to stay here,” Yusuf was saying, to which Arthur absolutely refused.

Normally Arthur would not have objected to Eames being in his apartment, or in his bed, really, but Arthur really did have a date tonight. It was going to be hard to explain to his date what a werecat was doing in his apartment.

“Please, Arthur,” Yusuf pleaded. “He can’t quite control it yet. He sometimes falls asleep and wakes up as a cat or vice versa. He can’t stay in his hotel where room service could stumble upon him.”

“Well he can’t stay here,” Arthur said. He felt he was being clear on this point. “I’m having company.”

“So explain that you have a friend staying with you,” Yusuf said. Below them, Eames was playing with the toe of Arthur’s sock. It would have been adorable if it wasn’t, you know, Eames.

“It is the kind of company that I don’t want a friend around for,” Arthur hissed. At that, Eames seemingly randomly changed back into himself, fully clothed.

“Arthur, I normally wouldn’t ask but you’re the only person I really know in the city.”
Fuck Eames and his contrite expressions.

“Yes, fine,” Arthur finally snapped. “But you stay as a - I can’t believe I’m saying this - as a cat when he’s over and if he happens to stay the night then you’re staying in the living room.”

“What if he doesn’t stay over?” Eames asked, a slight smile on his lips.

Arthur reddened. “Then you’re still staying in the living room. I swear to God, Eames - “

Eames held up his hands. “Okay, okay. Living room. Got it. Thank you.”

“You owe me,” Arthur muttered to Yusuf before leading Eames into his condo and shutting the door.

“Your place is nice,” Eames said, glancing about Arthur’s space. Arthur followed his gaze. His condo was spacious for Brooklyn with a view of the Manhattan skyline. Though sparsely furnished, each piece was chosen with care. He wondered what Eames saw when he looked at it, what it gave away about him.

“Thanks,” Arthur said, an automatic response.

“What time should we expect your date?”

Arthur turned and looked behind him at the microwave clock. “In an hour. You hungry?”

“Are you going to offer me cat food?”

Arthur smiled. “I wasn’t but now that you mention it - “

“Ha ha,” Eames said dryly. “Although if you do have any fish about, I do have a strange craving. I wonder if it’s a side effect.”

“You should ask the other werecats,” Arthur quipped.

“You know, joke all you want but this isn’t exactly funny to me. This is my life we’re talking about. I can’t dreamshare ever again unless I get this cat transformation thing under control or unless Yusuf comes up with a cure.”

“You have other careers you could fall back on,” Arthur said. “You could go back into topside theft. You could be a cat burglar!” he blurted before he could stop himself.

“That was truly terrible,” Eames said, but he was smiling slightly so Arthur counted it a win.

“It was, wasn’t it?”

Arthur rummaged about in his freezer and came out with frozen salmon, pre-packaged with sauce included. He held it up for Eames’ inspection.

“Will this do?”

“Looks heavenly,” Eames said with no trace of sarcasm.

“Okay then,” Arthur said and set about preparing it - namely sticking it in the oven.

Eames was looking about his space when Arthur turned back, poking about at his books and movies. If it had been anyone else Arthur would have felt slightly uneasy but Eames had once found Arthur’s porn stash on his laptop so he knew Arthur considerably better than most people.

“I’ve been meaning to watch this,” Eames said, holding up a DVD case. Arthur moved closer and looked.

“Lord of the Rings? You’ve been meaning to watch Lord of the Rings?” Arthur said, his voice rising in a way that he realized detachedly was a bit embarrassing.

Eames smiled and shrugged. “I’m not really into the whole-“ He waved his hand to encapsulate Epic Fantasy. Arthur couldn’t quite break out of his scowl.

“Tomorrow,” he said. “If my date doesn’t stay the night, then tomorrow we’ll watch them.”

“Them? All of them?”

“It’s only eleven hours,” Arthur said with a shrug, if only to see Eames’ expression of disbelief. “You’ve done longer surveillance in a Mini.”

“Yes but at least I had a book,” Eames said.

“I’m not even dignifying that with a response.”

Eames smiled and then curled up on Arthur’s couch. Literally curled up, with his head on the cushion and his knees pulled up. Arthur stared.

“What are you - is this the cat thing?” Arthur asked tentatively.

“Is what the - Oh. Yes, I suppose so. It’s strangely comfortable. Can I take off my socks?”

Arthur considered it. He did like to deny Eames things, but he also wanted to extend good will so that Eames would behave when his date arrived.

“Yes,” Arthur decided. “But put them in the bedroom hamper.”

Eames perked up at that and pulled off his socks quickly and efficiently. He glanced at Arthur as if seeking permission and then snuck - it really was the only word for it - into Arthur’s bedroom. Arthur stared after him, puzzled. He tried to think quickly if he had left anything out that was embarrassing or fodder for Eames’ teasing. He didn’t think so.

Still, after it had been longer than it would take for Eames to drop his socks in the hamper and come back, Arthur went in search of him.

“What are you - “Arthur started, opening the half-closed door. And then he stopped because it looked like Eames was pawing through his hamper.

“Are you going through my dirty laundry?” Arthur asked.

“No!” Eames shouted and immediately dropped whatever he had in his hand back into the hamper. “No, that is exactly what I am not doing,” he said. Arthur narrowed his eyes. “Arthur I swear,” Eames went on, “I’m not myself.”

“Why don’t we stick to the kitchen from now on,” Arthur said slowly. Eames nodded.

The kitchen was starting to smell like salmon which didn’t exactly scream date night but that would be easy enough to fix with some air freshener and an open window. Arthur turned to Eames to ask him to open a window when the sight of Eames licking his lips blocked the words in his throat. Arthur coughed instead.

“Can you open a window?” he finally asked and Eames moved to comply without comment. Arthur opened the oven to poke at the salmon with a fork. A few minutes yet. He turned to find Eames still at the window, staring intently out of it.

“Eames.”

Eames didn’t turn.

“Eames!” Arthur said, louder and Eames did finally turn from the window. A flock of birds took off from the balcony outside.

“Fuck,” Eames muttered. “Yusuf better be coming up with this cure right this fucking instant.” He ran a hand over his face and it was clear for a moment just how tired he was.

“I’m sure he’s doing his best,” Arthur said, which wasn’t very helpful or constructive but it was all he had.

“Do you think you’ll be able to stay a cat for the evening?” Arthur asked after a moment of consideration. If he had to explain to his date why there was suddenly a strange man in his apartment where there used to be a cat he was going to shoot himself in the face.

“I don’t know, Arthur,” Eames said snidely. “It’s not like I’ve been doing this for a long time, now is it?”

“No, but you probably have some idea - “

“I have no idea, okay Arthur? None!” Eames dropped onto the sofa. Arthur opened his mouth to shout back but at the sight of Eames curling up his bare feet on the sofa, he stopped.

There was silence between them as Arthur pulled out the salmon and served it on a plate. He had meant to put it over some rice but had forgotten, what with Eames going through his laundry and then being mesmerized by the birds outside.

He set it in front of Eames on the coffee table with a fork.

“Thanks,” Eames said quietly and Arthur nodded and busied himself changing for his date in his bedroom, away from Eames and his freaky cat tendencies.

He had gone out a few times with Craig, after meeting him at Arthur’s sister’s birthday party. Craig was nice and sweet and uncomplicated, which Arthur didn’t mind every once in a while. Craig had a typical New York story - he had been in a few Off Broadway shows and waited tables when he wasn’t acting, singing or dancing. He had dark hair and an easy smile which wasn’t hard at all on the eyes.

They had gone out together to a couple restaurants and last time, to a show that Craig’s friend was in. Arthur didn’t exactly see it working out long term but that wasn’t stopping him from hoping to get laid - that is if Eames could stay out of his way long enough.

When Arthur had narrowed down his shirt choice to two options, he wandered back into the living area where Eames had gone back to looking out the window.

“Blue?” Arthur asked, “Or black?”

He held up both for Eames’ inspection. Eames looked between them before his gaze settled on Arthur’s bare torso. He licked his lips and Arthur was reminded of the way Eames had looked at the salmon. A shiver ran up his spine.

“Black,” Eames said finally and Arthur nodded and retreated to his bedroom once more. Jesus Christ. Of all the things to turn him on, he really hadn’t thought, ‘Eames with cat tendencies’ would be one of them. ‘Eames when he was working out’ made the list and ‘Eames when he was being so fucking competent’ and of course, ‘Eames when his tattoos peaked out through his shirt’. But Eames as a pseudo-feline? Not so much. His list was clearly going to need some revision.

When Arthur joined Eames again, Eames was gone and the small brown tabby was sitting in his spot, licking one of his paws. The salmon on the table was gone.

“Eames?” Arthur said. The tabby raised his head. “Can you actually understand me?”

The cat tilted his head.

“If you can understand me,” Arthur said, “Jump down from the couch.”

The cat considered Arthur and then jumped down from the sofa. He walked right over to Arthur and then, after sniffing his foot, rubbed his entire body against Arthur’s leg. Arthur’s hand went down of its own accord and then he was petting the cat - Eames- and Eames was purring loudly against him.

Except it wasn’t Eames, not really. Arthur couldn’t imagine Eames ever butting his head against Arthur’s leg in such an easy affectionate way. It reminded Arthur of the strays that sometimes followed him to the subway, winding themselves around his legs and nearly tripping him. They were so starved for human touch and affection that Arthur couldn’t help but pause and pet them against his better judgment.

It struck Arthur that it might be lonely, being Eames.

He didn’t have long to think on it; his buzzer rang, interrupting that train of thought.

Arthur wandered over to the wall and answered it. “Come on up,” he said without waiting for the visitor to speak. There was a clicking noise to indicate the door had opened and then silence. Arthur looked down at the cat that was once again rubbing against him.

“Behave,” he said sternly. Eames, of course, said nothing.

They both startled at the knock on the door.

“Seriously,” Arthur said and then went to open the door.

“Hi,” Craig said with a big grin. He had a bottle of white wine in his hand and looked amazing in a tight-fitted white t-shirt and jeans.

“Hi,” Arthur said, accepting the wine. “Come on in.”

“Oh! You have a cat!” Craig said, crouching to pet Eames.

“I - I’m cat sitting,” Arthur fumbled.

Craig cooed over Eames and petted under his chin dutifully. Eames for his part withstood the petting for a moment and then trotted away to settle on the couch.

“She’s lovely,” Craig said, “What’s her name?”

“He’s, uh, Eames,” Arthur replied, wishing he had thought of a cutesy cat name in advance.

“Like the designer?”

Arthur nodded and fished in his kitchen drawer for the corkscrew. “My friend likes design,” he said and
Craig nodded, accepting this.

“Oh, have you already eaten?” Craig said.

“Hmm?” Arthur looked up from where he was uncorking the wine.

Craig pointed to the plate abandoned on the coffee table.

“Uh, no. That was from earlier. I’m a real, um, slob,” Arthur said unconvincingly. Craig looked around the
spotless apartment.

“I can see that.”

“Wine?” Arthur said brightly.

From there the date was fairly standard, as far as dates in which you have a werecat in your living room go. They ordered in Thai from a place around the corner and got steadily drunker as the evening progressed. Eames moved from the sofa to near Arthur’s feet, purring as he rubbed against them. Arthur didn’t kick him away, the weight on his feet felt strangely nice. When Arthur took their evening to the sofa, Eames followed them, hopping up on the back.

Craig laughed.

“He really likes to be the center of attention, doesn’t he?”

“You have no idea,” Arthur said darkly. “Shoo!” He said and waved Eames away. Eames did not budge, merely regarded them placidly, his tail twitching.

“It’s fine,” Craig said, settling in beside Arthur. “You won’t even notice him in a little while,” he said in a low suggestive voice.

Arthur leaned into the kiss when it came but couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. When Craig’s hands eased their way up Arthur’s shirt, instead of feeling turned on, he felt awkward knowing Eames was there. Not even the alcohol he had drunk could take the edge off.

After a little while though, Arthur had relaxed enough to almost forget about Eames. That is until Craig yelped and fell off the sofa.

Arthur shot up. “What happened?”

Craig looked confused from his place on the floor. Eames sat a little while off, studiously licking a paw.

“Your - I think the cat jumped on me.”

“Jumped on you?”

Craig gave a small laugh. “I know, it sounds crazy. But I just felt something - maybe claws? - in my back.”

“He’s a bit high maintenance,” Arthur said, glaring at Eames and trying to silently beam, ‘Don’t fuck this up for me,’ into his brain. Eames of course, paid him no attention.

“Why don’t we take this into the bedroom?” Craig suggested with a look that promised clothing off in the next thirty seconds. Arthur agreed readily. Maybe with Eames in the other room he would be less distracted.

Arthur made sure to shut the bedroom door behind them, leaving Eames safely in the living room. As soon as he turned back, Craig was on him, sucking kisses into his neck. Arthur was backed into the door, Craig pressed against him. When Craig sunk to his knees, Arthur couldn’t help but make a greedy noise. It had been a while since someone had been in this position.

From the other side of the door came a scratch.

Craig unbuttoned Arthur’s jeans quickly. Arthur’s breathing quickened.

From the other side of the door came a soft mew and another scratch.

Craig pulled down Arthur’s jeans roughly. From the other side of the door came a loud howling and more scratching.

“Fuck,” Arthur said. Not the sexy, turned-on fuck but the Fuck of a man who was frustrated both sexually and otherwise.

“Can you put him in the bathroom or something?” Craig murmured. He mouthed Arthur’s cock through his briefs. Arthur let his head fall back against the bedroom door. When the scratching came again, Arthur could feel it rattling the door in its frame.

“Fuck,” Arthur said sincerely when it became obvious that the scratching and yowling were not actually going to stop. “Can we rain check?”

Craig sighed heavily and got up. “You sure you don’t want to fuck me first?”

Arthur did. He really did, but he also knew that on the other side of the door was someone who was confused and probably scared and upset.

“Next time,” Arthur said and did up his pants. Craig nodded. He looked dejected and Arthur would care more except Eames was still pawing the door behind him.

Arthur opened the door and the cat all but ran into the room and hid under the bed.

“Great,” Arthur muttered. Now he got to spend all night coaxing a cat who was actually a highly skilled dream thief out from under his bed. Not ideal.

He saw Craig to the door with a promise to call him later that Arthur didn’t think he was going to keep, and then he went to find Eames.

A few minutes later, having coaxed Eames out from under the bed, Arthur was trying to coax him back into being a human being. His anger at being interrupted with Craig had dissipated, leaving behind frustration at having a one-sided conversation with a cat.

“Eames, come on,” Arthur said. “You can’t even change the channel as a cat. If you change back we can watch all the BBC you want. Well, BBC America,” he amended and didn’t blame the cat for narrowing his eyes at Arthur. They were sitting together on the couch, channel surfing. Well, Arthur was. Eames was staring at him and licking his paw every once in a while.

Arthur never thought he’d miss Eames but there it was. When he stalled on Real Housewives of New Jersey, he looked expectantly at the cat beside him, waiting for him to come up with a witty rejoinder or to at least insist Arthur change the channel, but the cat only stretched out and yawned.

Arthur sighed. “If I broke you, Yusuf is going to kill me,” Arthur told the cat. The cat butted his head against Arthur’s thigh so Arthur petted him. The fur was soft under his hand and it was just sort of natural to keep petting him once he had started. A soft, deep rumble started up and Arthur smiled.

“You just need some petting, don’t you?” he said and then, realizing that he was baby talking to a cat that was actually a criminal mastermind, decided to go to bed.

When he got off the couch to brush his teeth, the cat gave him a forlorn look that Arthur was able to ignore but once he had finished in the bathroom and was ready to head to bed, he couldn’t ignore the cat any longer.

“Good night,” he said firmly to the cat who was still stretched on the sofa.

The cat gave a soft meow and hopped off the sofa to follow Arthur to the bedroom.

“No,” Arthur said firmly. “You stay out here.”

The cat tilted his head and gave what can only be described as a questioning meow.

“Look, there’s a big couch for you and with any luck you’ll be human shaped in the morning. You will be fine out here.”

The cat ignored what Arthur said and instead rubbed against his leg.

“Oh fuck you,” Arthur said tiredly and left the door to his bedroom open.

Arthur was a light sleeper by necessity. It usually worked to his advantage in his line of work, particularly when he trusted only a quarter of the people he worked with at any given time. This night, however, Arthur found himself wishing it wasn’t so. Every time Eames found something worth investigating or playing with or - once - smashing, he woke up. He was going to strangle Eames once he changed back into a person, he really was. In fact, maybe even if he didn’t turn back. Arthur really liked that glass and now he only had five in his set instead of six.

The next time he woke it was to a weight settled on his chest. He cracked one eye open. The cat had curled up on him and was purring contentedly in its sleep. Arthur rested a hand in the fur and closed his eyes again.

At 6:13, Arthur reached a hand out blindly and grabbed his phone. He squinted at it enough to turn off his alarm scheduled to go off at 6:15 and then rolled over, colliding with a warm lump. Arthur carefully froze and opened his eyes again and the lump materialized into Eames - fully human shaped again. Thank God, Arthur thought blearily and then went back to sleep.

When Arthur woke again, this time better rested, Eames was still in his bed but at least he was fully human. Before Arthur had known the frustration of trying to coax a cat to turn into a human, he might have been panicked at finding Eames in his bed but now he only felt intense relief.

“Eames,” Arthur grunted and nudged at him with his foot. At least Eames was fully clothed, Arthur thought and then wondered if that was actually a good thing. A partially unclothed Eames or even a fully unclothed Eames in Arthur’s bed wasn’t exactly something he would turn down, at least if he didn’t think about it too hard.

“What,” Eames said without opening his eyes.

“We agreed on the living room,” Arthur said, having not actually thought through what he would say if Eames was in fact actually awake.

Eames exhaled noisily. “I didn’t want to,” Eames said, just this side of petulant. Then he - and this really was the only word for it - snuggled closer. He actually buried his face in Arthur’s neck and wrapped an entire meaty arm around his middle.

“Uh,” Arthur said eloquently.

“Smell good,” Eames murmured and fuck, Arthur could actually feel Eames’ lips against his neck. Lips which were near teeth which could lead to biting and licking and - fuck Arthur was hard.

“You should - “ Arthur tried to extricate himself. Unsuccessfully.

“Stay,” Eames said. “Just for a bit. ‘S good, right?”

Arthur meant to respond - with what, he wasn’t sure - but then Eames inhaled deeply and made the softest content sound and Arthur was somewhat lost. Seemingly without his consent, his hand came up to rest in Eames’ hair and then he was petting Eames, but not Eames-as-a-cat, Eames-as-a-man. Eames made another content sound though, which was almost as nice as the purring the cat made. He wasn’t sure he could actually stop petting Eames. He was in so much trouble.

“You - “ Eames murmured sleepily and then Arthur felt something wet on his neck. “- taste good too.”

Arthur’s brain went offline for a brief moment in which Eames nuzzled and kissed Arthur’s neck. When it came back online, Arthur remembered that all of Eames’ behaviour was being directly effected by whatever had turned him into a cat. As much as Arthur didn’t mind Eames nuzzling at him, he did have to work with the man in the future and saving Eames future embarrassment might actually help their working relationship.

“Eames,” Arthur said with some difficulty, “This isn’t you. This is the thing Yusuf gave you. The cat thing, remember?”

He felt Eames nod against him. “Yeah, it’s a bit fuzzy but Arthur - “ and here he paused for a press of his lips against Arthur’s neck - “Arthur, I’ve always wanted to do this.” Then, after a pause, “But if you don’t want me to, we can blame Yusuf.”

When Arthur didn’t respond, stuck on always wanted to do this, Eames started to pull away. Arthur stopped him with the hand still on his head. Eames’ eyes met his own.

“I don’t want you to regret this once you’re fully human again,” Arthur said quietly, the way secrets sneak out when you don’t mean them to.

“I couldn’t,” Eames said and when Arthur was satisfied that his eyes held the same sentiment, he pulled him closer and finally pressed his lips against Eames’. Eames made the same deep content sound and pressed closer, closer until they were as close as they could get without Arthur kicking off the covers, so Arthur did.

“I want to taste you,” Eames murmured against Arthur’s skin. He left kisses on Arthur’s chin, his neck, his shoulder

“So taste me,” Arthur said and shrugged out of his pajama bottoms. He could think of a thousand reasons this wasn’t a good idea, but the look of wonder in Eames’ eyes erased all of them. Arthur arched his back and scratched his fingers against Eames’ scalp again as Eames kissed and bit his chest, then his naval and then, finally, to where Arthur wanted him. Arthur squeezed his eyes shut when Eames swallowed him down without ceremony. He was murmuring curses, shouting them as Eames hummed around him. Finally without warning Eames pulled off and Arthur couldn’t help the near sob that escaped his lips.

“Eames - “

Eames shushed him. “Just want to taste all of you,” Eames murmured and then he was lowering his head to mouth at Arthur’s balls, and then lower still. Arthur knew what was coming when Eames carefully spread his cheeks but he still wasn’t expecting Eames to actually put his tongue there.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh - “ Arthur gasped. Eames was making the most obscene noises as he ate him out, somewhere between a moan and a purr. Arthur’s fingers tightened on Eames’ head, held him closer so he could get deeper and fuck, he was actually fucking Arthur open with his tongue.

Arthur gave a high-pitched whine and Eames eased off slightly before darting in for one last open-mouthed kiss, filthy and deep.

When he raised his head from between Arthur’s legs, his grin made Arthur huff out a laugh.

“Jesus Christ,” he said with feeling.

“Like that?” Eames said, his grin not even close to fading.

Arthur babbled a mix of syllables and Eames laughed, the bastard. Then he sat back on his heels and surveyed Arthur, naked except for socks, his hard cock leaking onto his belly.

“Do you think I could fuck you now?” Eames asked, strangely polite.

“I think that would be best,” Arthur said and then laughed again, helplessly. “You should maybe get undressed,” he added because Eames was somehow still entirely clothed. Eames looked down at himself.

“Maybe,” he said and then in a quick, practiced movement, whipped his shirt up over his head and then slid off the bed so he could finish undressing. When he had kicked his socks across the room and Arthur had stopped staring - mostly - at his tattoos, Arthur motioned toward the bedside table.

“I very nearly chased after my own socks just now,” Eames told him as he tossed lube and a condom on the bed.

Arthur smiled. “Come chase after me instead.”

“Oh Arthur,” Eames said as he settled back between Arthur’s legs, “What do you think I’ve been doing all this time?”

Arthur was saved from answering by Eames’ clever fingers which were slicked and put to good use. Arthur rolled his hips and groaned when a wave of pleasure crashed over him.

“You’re sure?” Eames asked and paused in his ministrations.

Arthur nodded, quickly and enthusiastically and it got the message across. Eames moved a hand up Arthur’s thigh and positioned himself.

“Deep breath,” he murmured and then he was filling Arthur up, stretching him in the most perfect way. Arthur gripped Eames’ bicep, covering the ink.

“Move,” Arthur groaned when Eames paused once he was fully seated, and then Arthur lost track of what he was saying because Eames was thrusting, moving inside him with a force that pushed Arthur’s body up the bed. Arthur smacked a hand onto the wall behind him to stop his head from colliding with it, not a moment too soon. It felt like his hand was branding itself into the wall with every thrust of Eames’ hips.

He could vaguely hear Eames saying words of encouragement over the rhythmic shifting of the bed but he was having trouble concentrating on anything besides his own pleasure, building and building inside him. He hadn’t even realized he had closed his eyes until Eames was murmuring at him to open them. He did and bit back a moan at the very sight of Eames positioned above him. He had known Eames was broad, of course, from the way his shirts stretched across his shoulders, but seeing Eames without anything covering him left Arthur breathless. He pressed a hand to Eames’ chest, where his heart was trying to break free.

“Come on,” Arthur gasped. “I want to see you.”

As if waiting for his cue Eames stilled and trembled above him, coming with a hushed gasp. He hovered above Arthur for a moment; a single bead of sweat dropped down onto Arthur`s chest.

“Fuck,” Eames finally said in a loud exhale and dropped down on top of Arthur.

Arthur grumbled and tried to thrust up against Eames, his own pleasure nowhere near forgotten.
“Eames,” he finally said - whined, really- and Eames sat up slightly, his softening cock still inside Arthur.

“So gorgeous,” Eames murmured in a hushed tone that Arthur wasn’t sure he was meant to hear and then he was wrapping a hand around Arthur’s cock and stroking it slowly, reverently, then harder, more insistently until Arthur couldn’t hold off anymore. He came with a shout.

When he came back to himself, Eames looked far too pleased with himself. Having disposed of the condom, he climbed back into bed with Arthur.

“I still haven’t forgiven you for the broken glass,” Arthur told him, but it lacked bite.

“Broken glass?” Eames said and looked around as if Arthur was the type to leave glass shards around his bedroom to step on.

“Do you remember anything about being a cat?” Arthur asked.

“Bits and pieces, mostly,” Eames said. “I remember really liking your feet and not really liking the bloke who was here. I remember... Housewives of Jersey Shore or something? That can’t be right.”

“Your memory definitely needs some work,” Arthur said with a small smile and settled in to doze, pulling Eames’ arm over his chest. Naturally, no sooner had he settled in than his phone rang. He grumbled but rolled over to answer it.

“Arthur,” Yusuf said brightly from the other end.

Arthur grunted.

“Please tell me Eames is still there. I called his hotel but they couldn’t connect my call.”

“He’s here,” Arthur said warily. “What do you need?”

“I thought I might come over and take some blood samples, see how he’s doing, you know. I have some really promising solutions to the problem. Assuming you haven’t killed him?”

Arthur glanced at Eames beside him. As if feeling the weight of his gaze, Eames cracked an eye open.

“I haven’t killed him,” Arthur said.

Yet, Eames mouthed. Arthur smiled.

“Oh good, I’ll be over in a few,” Yusuf said. Arthur could already hear him fiddling with something in the background.

“Actually why don’t you come over tomorrow,” Arthur said in what he hoped was a casual tone. “We have plans for today.”

“Plans?” Yusuf sounded confused and Arthur couldn’t really blame him.

“Plans,” Arthur said firmly and hung up before he had to field anymore questions. He tossed his phone on the bedside table.

“Plans?” Eames said in a low rumble and Arthur smiled.

“Yeah. Lord of the Rings, remember? Eleven hours of brilliant fantasy?”

The crestfallen look on Eames’ face was comical and Arthur couldn’t keep his straight face for long.

“I’ll show you eleven hours of fantasy,” Eames said and while it was truly a horrible line, as he pinned Arthur to the bed, Arthur couldn’t quite find it himself to protest. Much.

Coda - six months later

Arthur looked up from the phone records he was reading when a stuffed mouse was dropped on top of them.

“Did you tell her?” Eames demanded from above him.

Arthur looked down at the mouse, then back up at Eames. “Tell who?”

From behind him he heard giggling and knew the answer. “No, I didn’t tell Ariadne about your little condition. Which has been cured,” he added loud enough for the peanut gallery.

“Then how could she have -”

Eames cut off and stared down at the issue of Nature which had been unceremoniously slapped onto Arthur’s work table by a grinning Yusuf.

“Can people stop throwing their shit in my space, please?” Arthur grumbled but did pick up the journal.

“Look whose research is on the front page!” Yusuf crowed.

Arthur turned the cover to show Eames. “Yusuf’s research is on the front page,” he deadpanned.

“Oh come on!” Eames exclaimed, plucking the journal from Arthur’s hand and flipping through it. “You can’t mention me by name! That’s bloody unethical!”

“He didn’t have to,” Ariadne said, crowding around Arthur’s desk. “I mean, mentioning height, weight, and race, are all fair game. So, tell me. Do you still find it hard to resist the allure of yarn?”

“Fuck off,” Eames said good naturedly and threw the journal back at Yusuf. “Well, at least something good came out of that whole fiasco.”

“I’d say more than one good thing came out of it,” Ariadne said pointedly and looked meaningfully between Arthur and Eames.

“You told her that too?” Eames exclaimed.

Arthur went to protest but Ariadne beat him to it. “He didn’t have to. You guys are so fucking obvious.”

“Well,” Eames announced, “Since we’re so fucking obvious, Arthur and I are now taking an early, extended lunch. To fuck,” he added.

“Eames,” Arthur protested, trying to find his highlighter under the cat toy on his desk. He stilled though at Eames’ hand on the back of his neck. “Yes, okay,” he said with a sigh and gave up trying to find his highlighter or in fact get any work done for the rest of the day.