(Untitled)
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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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.
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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.
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"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.
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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.
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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.
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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."
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If he actually appeared to be unflappable - great. But he wasn't unflappable or unmovable as it may be. Talented Arthur may be, but he was still human and very susceptible to that fact. Eames just somehow knew how to get under his skin and live there without really trying, and he would comment on that particular talent if he wanted to draw any more attention to it.
The pithy comment got a dramatic eye roll from Arthur, but he generally stayed quiet even after Eames returned with their drinks. It was kind of flattering to see the changes in the man's overall demeanor after he made the offer - though he might not be able to analyze people as well and in such detail as Eames was able to, he could see the hints of desire and overall approval in the man's eyes clearly.
That felt nice. What didn't feel nice was how hot his cheeks were. Alcohol tended to make him heat up really fast, his cheeks and ears turned pink alarmingly quickly and there was nothing he could do to hide it. And even though he was sipping on his second drink his face felt fairly hot, though not because he was embarrassed in the slightest. In all actuality, he felt pretty good about extending the offer and having it accepted. There was a hint of his dimples showing as he tried to hide his smile behind his glass.
"I'm going to need just another moment - if you don't mind." He wasn't one to waste a drink, nor could he throw them back like he used to. But Arthur polished off the drink quickly enough and was licking the taste of lime and gin from his lips as he slid out of the booth and headed for the door. His body felt alive with uncertainty, and while it was usually an abhorrent feeling, Arthur was rather enjoying it at the moment.
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Eames noticed the slight changes that appeared on Arthur's face; the pinkish tinge on the other's cheeks, mainly. He didn't tease about this, because he felt accomplished in some way. Plus, it was steering his mind to places that it probably shouldn't be steered towards. It was damn difficult when he would catch sight of those dimples, though. There was no rush, however, and he nodded to Arthur's suggestion of finishing up the drink. It would give him time to train his mind elsewhere other than how else he could get the man's face to flush in that particular way.
He got up after a moment when Arthur seemed to be nearly done, heading over to pay up the rest of their tab without consulting this with the pointman. It wasn't about money; he wanted to get back to Arthur's house to see how the rest of the night fared for them. Pushing his hair back with a hand, Eames looked to the other man to start heading back to his house, without a doubt feeling like this night would be decisive to how their relationship played out from then on.
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Arthur sat down near the middle of the couch, his legs crossed at the ankle and stretched out in front of him. There was enough room for Eames to sit on either side of him, if he wanted to, but it would force them closer. The forger could also choose to sit in one of the matching chairs, but Arthur was hopeful that Eames would join him on the couch and it was assumed that he would. Though the man seemed interested in continuing to peruse his book shelves. "The most salacious thing on there is Lolita... Or maybe Gravity's Rainbow." He offered in lieu of an invitation to join him.
It was still a little disconcerting how easy it was for him to let Eames into his home, but he was tired of keeping him out.
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He thumbed a few of the pages before setting it somewhere visible on the bookshelf for Arthur to see later. Once the pointman returned, Eames gave him a brief glance before he continued to peruse the collection of books. He spotted a few familiar ones, and the rest he didn't care much for.
At the comment, he laughed softly, both hands behind his back as he walked closer to the couch. "And why do you think I'd be interested in the lewd collection of your library?" he was smirking, however, as he headed over to take a seat next to Arthur, momentarily placing a leg on the other's knee for balance before he removed it. "Lolita is quite a read, however." he raised an eyebrow, his body turned to face Arthur better. "Were you attracted to Dom, Arthur?" he said, seemingly out of nowhere though the question had roamed in his mind for a while.
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"Was I what?" He blurted out at the seemingly innocuous question. Arthur was very clearly blind sighted by the abruptness of the subject change and the actual subject in general. His whole posture shifted, his feet planting on the floor and back straightening as he stumbled mentally to come up with a way to answer without being flip or brash. "He's been an important part of my life, but am I or was I ever attracted to him? No," he eventually said, completely honest.
Arthur may have thought that Dom was (objectively) good looking when they first met years and years ago, but there was never anything more than an acknowledgement of the fact that Dom wasn't bad to look at. The man was more like his brother than anything else. His older brother who needed curtailing and cleaning up after constantly. "How long was that bothering you?" He asked as he tried to settle back down, though Arthur was eyeing Eames suspiciously.
There really was no predicting Eames.
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Methodical as ever, Arthur’s answer was concise and to the point. Eames almost felt a little bad for Dom. Then again, not really. He supposed that would mean things could go in his favor, and the fact that Arthur didn’t crucify him for implying he liked men was a big clue as well. Eames decided to continue full charge.
“A few years now.” He laughed, close to taking out a cigarette but he held back, his hand awkwardly smoothing over the pocket of his shirt instead. “Thank you for clarifying he’s not attractive to you even now.” Eames added, head turned to look at the other man at a slight angle. They were both guarded still, but at least where Eames was concerned, his defenses were lowered considerably. “Arthur, Arthur.”, he shook his head with a small laugh, as if he were amused at something the other man said. “Will you relax so I can do this?” he glanced up at the pointman for a few seconds, one hand lifting to place it on the back of his neck, and if he wasn’t put into a headlock in the next three seconds, then he was going in for it; the kiss he’d wanted for some years now.
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He kept his eyes on Eames' every move, unsure as to where this was leading - if it would lead where he hoped or if Eames would breeze right on out of his town house as quickly as he came. Cocking an eyebrow at the vague answer to his question, Arthur huffed out an almost incredulous noise. "I've never known you to hold back for so long." But there had to be a reason for the forger's hesitance and while he would love nothing more than to know, the hand on the back of his neck caught his full attention.
No, he didn't put Eames in a headlock, or push him away. Arthur lifted a hand to grasp Eames' forearm, head listing slightly to the side in interest. "I'd apologize for being tense, but." It was implied that it was Eames fault anyway. He could fix it, if he wanted to and Arthur was waiting as patiently as he could. Sometimes he wasn't as patient as he should be and he leaned in enough to be practically breathing the same air.
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All he was thinking of at the time was his next move; alcohol-driven, perhaps, but that had only been the kickstart of a lengthy longing. Arthur’s answer caused him to chuckle quietly, his fingers pressing into the base of the other’s spine. “It wasn’t the right time.” He replied shortly. Vague, most likely, but during the time he’d developed a growing, strange attraction to Arthur, Eames evaluated how frustrating it would be to attempt something when Dom was such a prominent, time-consuming figure.
The next few seconds slipped by rather quickly, feeling no threat or negative reaction to his impulsive (but yearly thought after) action, Eames felt accomplished. He barely processed Arthur’s words, but he replied. “Ah, relax, then.” a small laugh slipped, not minding his as much as he was aware of the follow-up. Lips brushed against lips, unmoving at first, gradually pressing more firmly, tentative, tasting alcohol and Arthur all in one. He could not find it any less intoxicating; more provocative than he would’ve imagined. His fingers stayed in place on the other’s neck, assertive in their hold.
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Slowly, he did relax into it, his body curved toward Eames'. His hand fell to the other man's knee and while Arthur was fine with letting the forger take the lead he wasn't going to merely sit and not reciprocate. He was feeling heady, nearly light headed and unable to stop himself from sighing appreciatively as he opened his mouth to Eames, his tongue darting out to tentatively trace that full lower lip.
This was the last thing he thought would happen today when he woke up this morning - actually he hadn't anticipated Eames showing up at all. Though he was pleasantly surprised by this turn of events.
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There was still something surreal about the action, lips moving fluidly against the other pair, and even with his eyes closed, Eames tried to envision how Arthur must look in that very moment. Adrenaline rushed through his body and he quickly wanted more; knees bumped together as he shifted closer, warm air mixed with Arthur's as their mouths parted. It was almost ridiculous how sharply intoxicating it was.
Eames couldn't forsee what could happen if their lips pulled away, so he didn't. He'd be damned to lose the opportunity he'd played out in his head years before. It was almost as if that thought filled him with dread, so he ended up kissing harder, his other hand moving to Arthur's side to hold him there while his own tongue darted out to rub against the other pink muscle.
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