(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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"I never said I was interested, but I am impatient and you already knew that," he retorted without missing a beat. He was almost prepared for the invocation of the Fischer job this time, so his reaction isn't so obvious this time. But he did react, paused and looked away, back at the brewing coffee pot. "Is this a two person job, or do you have an extractor, too?"
The best way to avoid talking about the Fischer job was to get Eames talking about this new job that he really didn't want to talk about either. Arthur was comfortable here and he was not too keen on giving it up so easily. When the coffee was done, he moved to get Eames a mug, stretching up onto the balls of his feet to reach the high shelf above the sink where he kept them.
He moved around his small kitchen almost lazily, getting the sugar and milk out, in case the other man wanted them. For all the things he could recall about the forger, he had no idea how he took his coffee. Setting everything out on the table for Eames, Arthur hovered for just a moment, "Do you want something to eat?"
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For his next thought, Eames waited until Arthur set the coffee and other items on the table. He picked up the sugar, pouring an unhealthy amount to it, swirling the hot liquid with the tip of his finger before he took a first sip. He was about to continue, but the other man showed yet another sign of hospitality he couldn't turn down.
"It was a long trip to get here; I suppose if you have something ready..." he glanced at him, trying to word the continuation of the job description as casually as he could. "We'd need to find an extractor, but I had the wild idea that you could be one."He said in a measured tone, wondering how Arthur would take it.
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Arthur kept moving, shuffling about the kitchen when the other man indicated wanting something to eat. He'd taken to growing vegetables out in his garden and used them in his cooking to the best of his ability, though he still hasn't really mastered cooking for one quite yet, and so there were quite a few things he had in the fridge or even recently moved to the freezer. "I made lamb stew earlier, if you'd like me to heat you up some," he said from in front of his open fridge. "Or, if you want something to go with that coffee, I've got some strawberry pie."
But he was quite interested to hear what the forger had to say, and he straightened up a bit and looked at him with both eyebrows raised. "That's... certainly a wild idea, yeah." It was certainly telling that Eames thought that he could be an extractor (and point, that part was assumed). Arthur's expression fell a little, brow furrowing as he considered the rather loaded implication. At least, it seemed loaded to him. "I don't want you to think this is a bid of intention to accept the job, but can you elaborate? I'd be fulfilling two roles just because it'll be easier, or..?" He trailed off and turned back to the fridge to pull out both the stew and pie anyway.
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He had never paid attention to any other skill Arthur might've possessed, so at the mention of the stew and the dessert, Eames looked rather impressed. "That would be great, yes." he rubbed his palms together, licking his lips before bringing the mug to his lips for a taste. It was good, really good, eyebrows shooting up but a verbal compliment didn't follow. There was no need for a smug Arthur.
"It's daring, I know." he looked pleased with himself over presenting the challenge, setting the mug back on the counter, one finger tracing the porcelain edge. "Ah, well, honestly?" he toyed with Arthur just for a moment, lingering in his response before he replied to the inquiry. "Frankly, Arthur, dear, there's nobody else I would trust for this."
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Cooking was kind of a natural thing to fall into with his skill set - following directions and measurements to a fully realized goal. It was calming and he definitely felt at place in his small kitchen. It also felt right, somehow, to have Eames in his kitchen and watching him. The stew was heating up on the stovetop and he put the pie, tin and all, into the oven for a few minutes and he hovered over the stove while watching the other man carefully.
He huffed a little bit at Eames toying with him, drawing out the information and getting him riled up just a little bit. "I'm flattered, truly, but I'm honestly not sure I'm ready to get back into the business." And there it was, that niggling self-doubt manifesting in that one word "ready". The admission was an accident really, but he wasn't taking it back. Arthur merely served up the stew in a bowl and took the pie out of the oven and cut two pieces, carrying the three dishes easily over to the table and he sat the food in front of the other man. He sat himself in the only other seat next to Eames and he dug into his pie without another word.
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He was set to prolong his time here, in this house, with Arthur. Besides, the other man was taking both items out of the fridge anyway. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a homecooked meal. Probably in Mombasa, after staying with an acquaintance and his family. Eames was looking forward to this, all the while getting another inkling to Arthur's domestic arrangement.
After another sip of coffee, Eames held the mug in one hand, looking up at Arthur with a slightly lidded gaze. "You think so? Not ready?" he laughed, clicking his tongue once, twice, before he gave a slight nod. "Well, I plan to stay in town a few days, perhaps indefinitely, so you know, think about it." Now it was time to focus on the food, and maybe on Arthur's dimple if it made a second appearance.
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Though the news that Eames was planning on staying was a bit of a surprise and Arthur stopped picking at the crust of his slice of pie for a moment. "Where are you staying, or have you just breezed into town without a plan?" There was a slight amount of teasing to his tone as he asked the question, sure that Eames would be able to find something if he needed to, what with the commercial hotels among the inns and bed and breakfasts all around Saratoga due to the well known racetrack.
"I will think about it, though, yeah." And that was essentially all he was going to say on the subject of the proposed job unless Eames pushed and pushed, but the food seemed to be distracting him enough. "If you're sticking around," he mused after swallowing a large forkful of pie, "you should check out the horse races. Won't be going on much longer with the summer ending." Arthur smiled again because he actually enjoyed going to the track and watching the races, the people betting on them and the beautiful splay of the mountains in the background.
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Though his decision to stay longer had been improvised, Eames didn't doubt he'd be able to find a place to stay. He always figured something out so this would be no different. At least a phone book might help, however, so he made a mental note to ask Arthur for one before leaving.
"Good. That's all I need. You're not completely ruling it out." Eames pointed out, wiping the corners of his mouth with his thumb. "Hm. Though it seems like a pointless sport, we can go watch sometime." he'd included Arthur in there without shame. Eames told himself that this could be a way to slowly work his way into convincing Arthur to join him, so he'd take it. Besides, where else would he get stew like this?
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Arthur rolled his eyes at Eames wiping his mouth with his thumb, and he pushed himself up and away from the table to get some napkins. He shoved one into Eames' hand when he sat back down, "Honestly, I thought British people were supposed to have manners."
Not that he could really criticize there as he pretty much devoured the rest of his pie like he hadn't eaten in a week. Settling back into his seat, he watched Eames eat even if it was a little strange. "I'm going to need more information, but that can happen later." It was unlikely that Eames was going to be able to convince him to agree to take on the job without a significant amount of more details, but Arthur wanted to get beyond talking shop right now. "It's a beautiful track, at any rate. If you'd prefer, I can show you the lake or the hiking trails through the mountains."
He didn't even question Eames automatically including him in plans and reciprocated without much thought.
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The eye roll was nothing short of amusing, including the snappy comment, but Eames merely shrugged and sat straighter. He wasn't a slob, and once he had the napkin, he wiped his fingers and mouth with it. "It was very greasy." he commented, though his bowl was now empty.
As he listened to the activities Arthur was inviting him to, he tried to picture himself doing these mundane things, then he imagined Arthur doing them. It was strange, how fitting the movie of dull life seemed to run in his mind. Any track record of their illicit workings gone; lost in a hiking trail or drowned in a lake. "When can we go?" he piped in, digging his fork into the slice of pie to take a hefty bite.
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He knew Eames generally wasn't a snob, but he could have asked for a napkin. The greasy comment got a slight huff but no real reaction out of him. Eames had just complimented him on his stew and there was nothing he could say now to detract from that earlier comment. "Seemed to likeit enough," he said with as much of a detached air as he could muster.
But he sat up straighter and scrubbed his hand over his face as he contemplated just what he could show Eames that he wouldn't be terribly bored by. They could go fishing - though he hasn't done that in years and he'd have to go buy rods and tackle and rent a boat - or kayaking on the lake. It was difficult to imagine Eames wanting to even do something so ordinary much less with him. They were in a dangerous, illicit, exciting business and outdoor activities in upstate New York didn't really rank high on the list of excitement. "I'm free, pretty much whenever. I run errands around eight in the morning, but I dont do much else besides that and tend to my garden." The look he leveled at the other man dared him to laugh, really. "If you want to do anything like fishing we'd have to set out early."
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"Why do you get up so damn early?" he laughed, scratching his chin, producing a raspy sound from the stubble he had there. "Fishing would be lovely. A real domestic scenario, isn't it? Bringing home whatever the catch had been for the day." Eames eyes glinted with amusement.
"Let me run errands with you." he suggested after a small pause. "I have no set plans other than to bring you back with me for the job, so your time, is my time." Eames smirked, getting up to take his empty dishes to the sink. British men did have manners.
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"I can get my errands out of the way and clear up the rest of my day the earlier I leave. I've never seen the point of procrastinating," he mused with a slight smile. Arthur was chronically early to everything, even when visiting the markets just as they opened. "If you want to suffer through my routine, I'm not going to stop you." The shared laugh between them was pleasant. Arthur couldn't stop his cheeks from dimpling as his smile broadened.
"Have you ever gone fishing before? You won't make me out your bait on the hook, will you?" He teased as Eames took his dishes away, mildly surprised. Eames was a guest in his house, after all. Arthur followed closely with his own dishes and insinuated himself in the man's personal space as he stood next to him at the sink, grabbing the dish soap and sponge to clean the dishes immediately. "Bring me back with you - I'm not something that can be fetched, Eames." Arthur merely raised an eyebrow at the Brit's word choice.
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“Making each minute productive, correct?” He chuckled, shaking his head slowly. That was one thing he could expect. Not one minute would go wasted if Arthur could manage it. Of course, time can’t be controlled, as much as the pinpoint man could want. “I think I can manage a little suffering in the morning. My days have been much more, shall we say, tempestuous?” he grinned knowingly, watching the other man as he laughed, once again paying utmost attention to the formation of those dimples.
“I’ve been fishing before.” Eames answered, though he didn’t elaborate on when and where. “Don’t worry, I won’t.” he laughed at the teasing, delivering a light clap on Arthur’s shoulder as if the other man were truly worried about baiting. He didn’t pay special notice to Arthur standing next to him, and as he listened, Eames’ smile crept up once more. “Perhaps; but you are quite fetching, Arthur.”
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Though he never got the chance to see Eames in his natural habitat, so to speak, he always pictured the man someplace exciting, vibrant and alive. Someplace to go, always, that was filled with a crowd to get lost in, maybe. Arthur found himself delighting in that grin and ducking his head a little as he tried to concentrate on the washing up. The pat on the shoulder had him leaning surreptitiously closer to the man. "You won't be suffering. Not really."
Pushing the sponge around the dishes, he couldn't help but focus his gaze back on the forger. "It was a silly suggestion, wasn't it. Of course you can manage your own bait." He paused, however, at the compliment. At least, he thought it was a compliment. Never the less, his smile stayed in place and he all but snorted. "Thank you, but you're going to have to try harder than that to convince me to come back with you."
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Eames chuckled low, for a moment thinking that Arthur was actually pleased to see him smile. It was a strange thing, the two of them. He would've pictured Cobb in his shoes, instead, but the sense of unfamiliarity and invasiveness had left him the minute he'd stepped through the door of Arthur's home. He had exaggerated a fraction, since the past months had consisted of him traveling aimlessly searching for this man right here, forgoing the opportunity for any grandiose trip of leisure. "I didn't think I would be. If anything, I'll amuse myself watching your new routine. I could learn a thing or two from the average man." he laughed, placing the clean cutlery on the dish rack before he crossed his arms over his chest and decided to look in Arthur's direction.
"That sounds like an invitation." Eames smirked, bringing a hand up to his own chin, contemplating the other man's words. After a moment of silence, he stepped closer, successfully closing off any distance between them as he leaned in to speak closely against Arthur's ear, the faint scent of shampoo hitting his sense of smell. "I told you I'd be here for a few days. I'll definitely be trying hard to bring you with me." He pulled back after his statement, heading to sit at his chair.
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