(Untitled)

[lakoffselephant]

After the team had parted ways at LAX, Arthur had decided that it was time for a break. A break from working, from dreaming, and from running around the world picking up after his (so called) friend. He simply took another flight back home, to upstate New York near the place where he'd grown up in order to find some peace of mind. There was very

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[lakoffselephant]

There was still a vague hint of color high on his cheeks as he turned to look at Eames, but it disappeared after a moment or two. Arthur had no reason to be flustered by the man's proximity, really, they've been playing at this for years now. He just didn't have the excuse of a job to distract him. "Oh, I would never truly be afraid of you, but you know how I like knowing what I'm getting myself into." Arthur was actually looking forward to seeing just how persuasive Eames could be and in what ways - he'd openly admired the forger's ingenuity before (though it seemed to come off as sarcastic and backfire in his face) and there was nothing Arthur found more indicting than intelligence and competence.

Though the very idea of Eames smoking indoors caused a flicker of a frown to cross his face, "No, we can go outside for that." Arthur liked to think that he wasnt really a smoker because he never bought packs himself but merely bummed a drag off of others cigarettes when drunk or entire cigarettes when he was especially stressed. But he didn't want his home to reek of smoke even if he didn't actually mind the act of smoking itself.

Knowing Eames would follow, Arthur left the kitchen and headed to the back door, passing by the bathroom and his open bedroom door to get to it. There was a small porch out back, a tiny facsimile of the front porch which lead to a sizable back yard that he'd turned into his garden. The sun was starting to set over the backdrop of the mountains and the garden was mostly eclipsed in the shadow of the Adirondacks by now, but it was still pleasantly warm out. Looking over his shoulder at Eames, Arthur smiled if only because he felt so at peace out here, if a little proud of his hard work.

[forgerart]

Eames noticed but said nothing about the darker shade on Arthur’s face, a hand reaching up to scratch a bit of stubble on his cheek while he nonchalantly listened to the other man. Eames knew he didn’t pose a threat, or seem scary to Arthur, but maybe, just maybe, he could be coercing with the power of intimidation. Self-admittedly, he was no genius, or book-smart, but he had other knowledge that favored him. “Slowly, slowly. Suddenly you’ve become the eager one and not me.” He chuckled. “Pleasure before business, hm?”

Cigarette in his mouth, Eames waited for an answer, one he could already guess the outcome of, so he was already getting up from his chair before Arthur formed the words. “Let’s.” He nodded, motioning to the hallway with a hand while his head tipped slightly, indicating for Arthur to lead the way. Eames wasn’t a vicious smoker, but when relaxed, he liked a smoke or two. A pack would usually last him a week, sometimes more. He wasn’t fond of cigarette breath, either, so just one for today would be fine. Maybe Arthur would join him, though he couldn’t exactly recall the dark-haired man lighting up.

As he followed, cigarette back in his hand, Eames took the opportunity to catch brief glimpses into Arthur’s life, passing by the bathroom, and a personal sanctuary: his bedroom. He was barely able to get a look, however, as they moved promptly towards the porch, out towards a large backyard that clearly displayed Arthur’s gardening skills. The scenery was rather pleasant, and the backdrop of the mountains really added to the whole thing. Eames smiled. “I can see why you’d choose to stay here.” He reached into his pocket for a lighter, cigarette held by his lips as he lit it, taking one slow drag to let smoke fill his lungs before he exhaled. Then, he offered the cigarette to Arthur while he crouched down to look at the nearest plant, wondering about its fruits.

[lakoffselephant]

Eames was inspecting his pumpkin plants - it was still early for those, but some of the flowers were starting to give way to small green gourds - as Arthur hovered close by. His arms were crossed lightly over his chest and he quietly accepted the cigarette. Taking a long drag, he held the smoke in his mouth before letting it just sort of filter out before crouching low beside Eames and passing the cigarette back. "It's nice here, quiet." He commented idly before standing back up and wandering around to a plant that was actually bearing ready vegetation. "I grew up about two hours North of here, actually."

He didn't mind giving Eames the finer details of his life, they've known each other long enough without actually knowing each other. Finding a ripe tomato he must have missed earlier, he gently plucked it from the vine and rolled it between his palms. "Don't you ever get tired? I mean, of moving from place to place, living out of a valise and a suitcase." The question came seemingly out of nowhere, but the reappearance of Eames in his life after having tried to distance himself from dream sharing for a spell was his way of trying to settle down. And settling down was a way to control the chaos his life had been over the past few years.

"Don't get me wrong, I love being able to dream and have so many possibilities open to me, but it's just... Maybe I've spent enough time chasing the ephemeral and need to focus more on something else." He looked at Eames with such an open expression, as if he were asking for the man's validation. He didn't need it, not one bit, but sometimes Arthur wasn't as fallible as he seemed to be. Shaking his head, he looked away and laughed at himself. "Or maybe I've just spent too much time alone with my thoughs these past few months, who knows?"

[forgerart]

Truthfully, Eames wasn't sure what he was looking at yet. He hadn't come upon many gardens to really know. It all looked like plants to him, but that didn't take away the curiosity he felt, or his interest from being piqued. Something was growing, though, and he reached out with a hand to trail along the green fruit bared by the plant. He glanced up at Arthur in time to see the other take a drag of the cigarette, eyebrow quirking as he listened to the miniscule backstory. "Why didn't you go home instead?"

It was still surreal, in a way, to be learning this much about the other man in what seemed to be only a few hours, but he supposed that's what average people did. They spoke, they connected, even if it was over something as simple as a garden. He straightened up, cigarette back in his hand to continue smoking. With a quick glance at the plump tomato in Arthur's hands, he mulled the question over in his head. Of course he'd thought about it before. He could literally close a suitcase and walk away from everything, but then the next forging job would come, making him remember exactly why he stayed. "Sometimes." he replied.

"Ephemeral. Didn't learn that one in school, either." He laughed, taking a long drag before exhaling upward. He didn't want to blow the smoke anywhere near the plants if he could help it. "Maybe you have, Arthur, or maybe I haven't had enough time to be alone with my thoughts. Who knows?" he repeated, finishing the cigarette before he dropped it and put it out with his foot, picking up the stub after. "Any place to drink around here? Maybe we should have a drink, to loosen my thoughts." he smirked.

[lakoffselephant]

"Oh, I did go home," he said as if he was surprised by the thought that he wouldn't have visited his hometown. "It was a short visit." After clarifying, Arthur moved back toward the pumpkin plants and Eames. He had spent a week under his mother's thumb and he'd felt all of fifteen again - it was simultaneously relaxing and irritating. While he loved his family he was never particularly fond of being doted on or being treated like a child. It was weird for him to be admitting this sort of thing, and to Eames, but Arthur felt compelled to talk, to be known, perhaps. He often felt a little too isolated by their profession because of the necessary secrecy concerning personal details.

Maybe he really did need to get out of here and get back to work if he was this driven to spill his life story. He watched Eames finish his cigarette as he chewed thoughtfully at his lower lip for a moment. "Learned ephemeral from some terrible sci-fi novel," he shrugged. "But I have, essentially, spent the last few months by myself without even Cobb to talk to." At least when he was picking up the pieces of Dom's life he wasn't alone. But he avoided dragging out the conversation any further and just let it rest there.

Turning and heading back up to the house, Arthur answered over his shoulder, "There's a place like three blocks from here. I need to grab my wallet." Having a drink with Eames was likely a terrible idea, but Arthur sometimes enjoyed doing things that would likely get him into trouble. Back in the townhouse, he went straight for his bedroom to grab his wallet off of his dresser. "Do me a favor and lock the back door?" He called out to Eames as he ducked momentarily into his closet to change his shirt and put on a pair of shoes. Though he was sorely tempted to change into a pair of slacks too, he didn't. It only took him a few moments to change into the button down shirt and slip on his socks and shoes and he was headed to the front door in no time.

Once they were both out on the front porch, he locked that door and cast a glance to his abandoned book. It wasn't likely that anyone would take it, and if they did, oh well. "How did you end up tracking me here, anyway?" He asked after they were about a block from his place.

[forgerart]

“Ah.” Now it made a bit more sense to Eames, though now he was curious as to what Arthur’s family was like. It couldn’t possibly be a normal, average household when they produced a genius that went into the human subconscious. Still, he didn’t think it was his place to ask. After all, should the same question be directed at him, Eames would likely struggle for an answer. It had been years since his last visit; safety being the main reason, but Eames didn’t feel like he belonged anywhere, not for a long time.

“Yes, Cobb.” Eames said quietly, an afterthought of what that very name had weighed for years to Eames. To Arthur. He figured he couldn’t feel that loss as strongly as the pointman, but perhaps when they least expected it, they’d hear from Dom. It was possible. He was standing proof of it. However, he wanted to put off Cobb from Arthur’s mind. The nerve of that guy to bring him up. It was Eames who was here, not Cobb, and it might be that way for a while.

After a place had been settled on, he took to looking the back door after a quick look-over to make sure everything was in place. He walked back the hallway they came from, stealing a glance while Arthur changed before he headed back to the living room to wait. Eames fixed his shirt, adjusted his belt, but nothing more than that. Once Arthur was ready, he took the role of follower, patting his shirt pocket to make sure he had his cigarettes. The next question earned a shrug from Eames, however, as he glanced at the houses and small buildings nearby. “Where there’s a will, there’s a way. I wanted to see you, so I found you.” He replied enigmatically, walking as far as they needed to until it seemed they reached the bar.

[lakoffselephant]

After spending so much time with Cobb, on and off of jobs, it was a bit jarring to be alone for the first time in months when he had retreated into his townhouse. Arthur enjoyed the solitude and the lack of desperate, half-insane co-workers slash friends who always needed to be taken care of. Never the less, it was difficult not to think about Dom and the Fischer job with his personal failure still weighing him down a bit. The way Dom had laid into him bothered him more than it probably should have.

And just like that he was inside his head, thinking a bit too much as they walked to the bar. Eames' answer to his question was frustratingly vague and he sighed as he shoved his hands into his pockets. Eames was always something of a mystery to Arthur - aloof and purposefully distant and he could never help but be a bit drawn to that because he wanted to know more about Eames. After a long moment of silence, he spoke up, "Well, it must have taken a lot of will power." That sounded silly even to his ears and he huffed out a self-deptricating laugh as he shook his head. A drink would do him a world of good to get out of the weird headspace he slipped into.

He took his hands out of his pockets to gently touch Eames' elbow as they approached the bar. Taking the few steps up to the door in two large strides, he held the front door open for the other man. The place is standard as far as bars go, but it was clean and fairly well lit with a lot of dark wood surfaces. Arthur had dropped in a few times since he settled down, though he had yet to get properly acquainted with the staff.

[forgerart]

The Fischer job had affected everyone differently once it was over, some more than others, but Eames didn’t stay in touch long enough to really find out what had happened to his work partners since then. Perhaps it was part of the reason why he’d disappeared for some time. Except unlike Cobb, Eames felt compelled to return, to look for Arthur, and from then on, figure something out. Together. He stopped himself before the thought even went there, but it was stupid because he’d already thought of it anyway.

“Not so much as it took money to get here.” He laughed, scratching the stubble on his chin while they walked along more places, his eyes taking in the average architecture. Nothing like the worlds Ariadne had come up with. Now more than ever, he wanted to convince Arthur to return to what they knew best.

Once they reached the bar, Eames followed per Arthur’s guidance, chuckling quietly as the door was opened for him. “Well, aren’t you a doll.” He teased, fixing the collar of his shirt as he went inside. It was spacious, therefore, Eames chose to sit in one of the back tables for privacy, bringing with him a menu although the lamb stew was still keeping him full, but quickly detoured towards the bar first to place an order of drinks. “Scotch for me,” he mentioned, turning to the younger man. “What’s your weapon of choice?” Eames grinned, resting his forearms on the wooden surface of the counter.

[lakoffselephant]

The simple architecture was still deceptively complex in places. There really was nothing better than simplicity and straightforward designs (with the occasionally well placed paradox) that Arthur enjoyed. But he does miss the limitlessness of dreaming, he can't even bother to deny it at this point, but he's still licking his proverbial wounds. If anyone could convince Arthur to change his mind (good luck, it's not going to be easy) it might just be Eames. Though he'd decidedly not thought about the man since the inception job, which turned out well considering it didn't work in the slightest but he could pretend.

He stood rather close to Eames at the bar, hands tucked into his pockets as he considered what he wanted to drink. "Ah, gin and tonic, extra lime, please." The doll comment went unchallenged and Arthur would be remiss to admit that he had even missed the infrequent (but poignant) terms of endearment from Eames. Or maybe he just missed Eames. He definitely needed that drink right about now. Before the drinks were even poured Arthur retreated back to the chosen booth and slid into one of the seats.

With his eyes firmly trained on Eames' back he waited for him to bring the drinks over. They'd likely start a tab and he'd pick it up before they go out of some sense of obligation. It didn't sit well with him that Eames had spent to come out and find him. It was... a nice gesture. There had to be something more than a simple two man job that had brought him all the way here. Time, and money was sunk into this venture and Arthur was more than simply curious. When Eames came back to the table, Arthur was still watching him with an arm thrown back along the top of the booth.

"I'm surprised you didn't get yourself a pint of ale," he said lamely. Arthur wasn't always smooth or on top of his game.

sorry for the delay! still around.

[forgerart]

Eames chuckled low in his throat for no definite reason. His mood having shot up considerably just from the change of atmosphere, plus being here with Arthur on top of that made for interesting possibilities. He allowed the other to order his drink, watching the bartender with a pensive expression while the drinks were being made. What could've happened if he'd met any of the people implicated in the Fischer job during something this mundane? Would Arthur have taken a different liking to him had they met by pure chance and luck?

Their drinks were handed over and Eames' thoughts were derailed. It was a ridiculous thing to muse about. Things were as they presently were, nothing less, nothing more. He brought the drinks over to their booth, laughing softly as he watched Arthur settled in his seat quite comfortably. "Had this been another situation, I might've been tempted to hit on you, Arthur." Eames flashed a quick smile, setting the other man's drink on the table, already sipping out of his own before he joined the pointman. "The pint of ale can come later." He chortled, not in any rush to leave this place quickly.

He glanced around to make something out of the other patrons, who mostly kept to themselves. He liked this. It wasn't one of those frat bars were people in their 20s left a nasty trail of vomit all the way to the restrooms. This place was bustling, yet it was still quiet enough that he could distinctly hear Arthur's voice should they talk. "So, tell me what else have you been doing here, besides catch up on your dusty books." he smiled, teasing but honestly curious. "Do you live with someone?" He cut to the chase.

It's all right! :)

[lakoffselephant]

He watched Eames while he was at the bar and he couldnt help but think that he was missing something about this visit. It really was a lot of trouble for Eames to go through just to ask him to get back to work. Why did it matter that he was in quasi-retirement? It didn't seem like something that Eames would do, but then again he never was able to predict what the man would do. He cocked an eyebrow, curious, at the quip about hitting on him and he took his time stirring his drink and sipping it before replying with, "Oh, what makes this situation so inappropriate that you wouldn't think of hitting on me now?" Arthur never knew when to back away from the push and pull of their relationship (wait, what relationship?) and just let things be.

Clearly comfortable here, Arthur just waited as Eames looked around, checking out the place. He kept stirring his drink with the two short straws in his drink, the noise of the ice hitting the glass oddly soothing to him. The questions weren't really unexpected, though the bluntness sure did catch him off guard a little - they've never really discussed their personal or romantic lives with each other and now was a weird time to start. "I do all of the things I couldn't do while I was working. I've been working non-stop since I was sixteen, so there's a lot I need to catch up on." He purposefully draws out his answer to the other question, taking long sips of the gin and tonic through those straws and keeping his eyes locked on Eames' face.

Shifting in his seat, Arthur dropped his arm off the back of the booth and splayed his hand on the table top to drag his fingers through the moisture left by his glass. "You saw my place - tell me, does it look like I live with someone else?" And maybe he just wanted to hear what Eames thought of him instead of giving him an answer. "Funny, that you won't hit on me but you'll ask such a question." His gaze fell to the tabletop as he contemplated giving the man what he clearly wanted. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips again as he let his mind wander as to Eames' reasons for directing the conversation this way. It was kind of flattering that he wanted to know bad enough to ask instead of just snooping around.

He looked up at Eames, smiling a bit broader, "No, I live alone." It was nothing to be ashamed of, certainly.

[forgerart]

"It's working backwards." Eames grinned, holding his glass lightly with his thumb and middle finger, tilting it back and forth a few times before he added on to his answer. "I was over at your house before inviting you for a drink." he chuckled quietly, though the answer wasn't suggestive at all since it was literal and true, but it was amusing to see it in a mundane light nonetheless; at least that's what he could derive from modern relationships.

Eames wasn't sure what possessed him to ask these kind of personal questions, since he never thought of or cared to before, but now, being with Arthur and only Arthur in this kind of setting drove him to do so. It's not like he blamed Cobb for always being -there- or Arthur for having Cobb as some kind of crutch. That's just the way it worked out at the time. Opposite-sex, same-sex, Eames had a tendency to flirt, regardless of gender, but he tended to be closed-book about what happened with those encounters. Arthur's reply was surprising, but it made Eames smile knowingly; as rebellious as the answer seemed, he just couldn't picture Arthur doing the things he did as a young adult. It semed almost impossible when he recalled the book in the porch and the garden outside.

"Well, one should never go about and assume those things, should they?" Honestly, once more he wasn't sure why he found this information pressing. Arthur's place did seem inhabited by only one person, but the man was so organized and tidy he wouldn't be surprised if he'd just always made sure no trail of a second person could be seen. The quip made him chuckle, but he couldn't say he didn't agree. It was funny in a way, leaving Eames pensive. He received an answer soon after, one that he liked.

"I've been hitting on you all these years, Arthur. Unless you really do think what we have is some kind of perverse, twisted game." he laughed, coming to this unsettling realization himself as he downed his glass. Well, fuck it, he thought. Might as well be truthful when alcohol was involved.

[lakoffselephant]

The air between them was getting a little charged, but there was rarely a time, that Arthur could remember, where things were easy between them. They've known each other for years and worked with each other since day one and it's always been one thing or another that had him bristling, Eames bristling, or just a general unease because they didn't really know how to act or react to the other. Or that was the case for Arthur. He wasn't so well versed in reading people like Eames was, he couldn't always tell when someone was trying to flirt with him instead of being simply nice. "You didn't give me enough notice, I could have had something to drink ready for you." He started tapping his fingers against the table with no distinguishable rhythm to the movement - Arthur has always been a fidgety person.

"No, I don't think what we have is a perverse game at all. Just... Poor timing mostly, and maybe a little purposeful ignoring on my part." He admitted that with a partial shrug. Sometimes the flirting was blatantly ignored because of said poor timing, but also Arthur had his doubts that Eames was even flirting seriously with him. The flirting was, on occasions, more like teasing and pig-tail pulling and that wasn't what Arthur found remotely attractive. What he did find attractive was, well, Eames, but the Eames that he saw in small glimpses - the dedicated, intelligent (ok, brilliant), and efficient man. "But, I know how to admit to being wrong," he said as he looked back up.

Turning his hand up on the table, Arthur splayed his fingers again as if reaching for Eames. "I appreciate directness, specificity," he continued with the hint of a dimple showing as if he found this entire situation entertaining. He was not as unflappable as he presented himself to be whilst working. And though he can withstand the pressure of the United States Army and working in an illicit field, something like this, so personal, was making him a little nervous (re: fidgeting and smiling). Eames was making him nervous and he hated the feeling, yet he wasn't going to leave because the feeling would pass. "And maybe you can forgive me for being a bit obtuse." Though if he kept talking it was going to only intensify and Arthur used his drink to effectively shut himself up.

[forgerart]

“I was joking, Arthur. There’s no right or wrong way with me.” Eames said, making a small wave gesture with his hand. “It’s about those grey areas, too. We’ve never been linear anyway. No path set out, no expectation, correct?” Maybe he’d gone off on a slight tangent, but it’s how he’d felt about his relationship with Arthur since they met.

Eames kept his eyes on the other man, as if trying to string out his thoughts one by one for analysis. Arthur said just enough to keep him alert, on his toes, but ever so annoyed. “Ignoring? Well, I could tell that much.” He admitted with a laugh. If anything, Arthur’s purposely indifferent treatment was like fuel for the forger; always wanting more attention specifically from him, prone to grand boasting and generally acting up when the pointman was around. Most of this unconscious, really, but sometimes, it had just as much purpose as Arthur pretending Eames wasn’t there.

His eyes went to the younger man’s fingers (or at least he assumed Arthur was somewhat younger. Birthdates and more personal information had never been accessible), all the while listening to the other list off those things he paid more attention to, traits Eames didn’t exactly possess. However, it didn’t matter when he could see Arthur’s bashful expression. Had he really managed to affect the other like this? “I don’t mind in the least.” He said truthfully, though his voice had a playful edge, as well. “Let me get you another drink.” He offered, standing up to go to the bar to order another round that included Arthur’s choice of alcohol, as well as his own.

Sorry for being slow, I started a new job~

[lakoffselephant]

Arthur paid rapt attention to Eames, even if he was starting to grow uncomfortable (mostly with his own accidental vulnerability). It was difficult to classify their relationship beyond mildly contentious with overt fondness and respect somewhere in the mix. Maybe that was enough. He certainly was tired of pretending like he didn't enjoy Eames' attention or even have feelings for the other man. "Yeah, I guess you're right," he agreed with a slight shrug. Arthur gave an amused snort and sat up a little straighter. "No, you are right. There's no real rhythm to this, us, either. But it'd be kind of weird any other way."

He pulled his hand back into his own space, unable to keep himself from fidgeting more, though he does start plucking at the hem of one of his pockets. "You make it difficult to concentrate on my work sometimes, I hope you know." That wasn't an accusatory statement at all, merely qualifying his purposeful ignoring. There would be no hope of getting any work done with the forger around if he let the man distract him.

If Eames knew just how distracting he found him, it may just backfire on him, but he did feel bad for all of the times he blatantly tried to shut Eames out. Though he clearly didn't need to feel too bad. The forger's tone has him smiling again, feeling somewhat mollified. At the offer of another drink, he laughed quietly, "Are you trying to get me drunk, Eames?" Watching Eames rise, he held onto his glass for an extra moment or two before holding it out to the (definitely) older man. "That's unnecessary, but thank you. I'll get the next few." And Arthur watched as Eames walked away, eyes lingering on the line of the man's back - and, ok, he was eyeing Eames' ass - without really being subtle about it at all.

Arthur wasn't as good as reading people as he should be, and it seemed like he was still an awkward teenager at times when confronted with particularly intricate relationships. He tried to pull himself together when Eames was at the bar. When the forger came back, Arthur thanked him politely. "Since we're so great at doing things in haphazard ways, I was thinking," he started once Eames was settled again, "that you don't have to find some place to stay tonight. You can come back to mine, if you'd like." And Eames could read that invitation however he'd like.

congrats!

[forgerart]

Even if their connection to each other was truly haphazard at best, Eames found himself strangely attached to it, whether Arthur knew it or not. He figured the other man had his own odd attachment, so as long as there was something, why ignore it? At least that's the mindset the forger currently had.

After a random sniff of his nose, Eames licked his lips to hide the quirk of his lips upon hearing that admission. He wouldn't have guessed it, not when Arthur seemed to have everything down to the last detail. Effort seemed much too ridiculous to pin to someone like Arthur. It was natural talent, and to know he might've affected that, made him feel like gloating.

"Of course I am." He called out just before he went to get their drinks, bringing them back to the table shortly after. He didn't know how much alcohol it would take to get Arthur tipsy, much less drunk, but Eames had a high tolerance so he'd likely be coherent for a while. Something about the situation had his energy buzzing, however, and as soon as he was seated again, he put his lips to his drink to tip back a good amount down his throat. It was a good thing he had done that quickly since he would've suffered the risk of choking when he heard what Arthur had to say next.

The invitation was unexpected, surprising, and very much tempting. "I would really appreciate that, Arthur." he looked at the other man past the clear make of his glass, and if anyone were to examine Eames' face, they'd notice the clear dilation of his pupils, darker as they looked at the other. He didn't know if he wanted to wait for another round or not, but perhaps he'd be surprised and going back to Arthur's meant a perusal of the other's book collection. "I'm ready when you are, then."