Prompts?
Hmm, this is sort of uncanny, but I've seen that it's always around this time of the year that I make a post asking for prompts. I know because I felt the urge today (I feel like being prompted) and I was checking my past fic entries and I saw that there was also a post asking for prompts in March 2015 and in April 2014. So here's the 2016 edition
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Eames couldn't really deny that, but it was part of what made it funny.
“You get it,” he said instead of arguing the point. “My irony.”
Arthur paused at that. It was the truth, but only because he knew Eames too well. It was quite the achievement, really, no easy feat, taking into account how paradoxically reserved Eames was, hiding behind his openness and friendly façade.
“Anyway, you should make sure to singsong your jokes a bit more,” Eames was saying, “nobody gets them, either.”
“You do,” was Arthur's automatic response.
“Because I know you well. Which, I'll have you know, it's quite a bit more to my merit than yours.”
And yes, Arthur knew, Arthur was painfully aware of that, Arthur was actually so overwhelmed by the truth of it that couldn't take it anymore and, twisting suddenly around, releasing the grip Eames had on his wrists, he sent his headache to Hell, sent the pain in his mandible to Hell, sent the pain in his ribs, in his neck and the strangely deep-seated ache inside his chest (that one was new, but it was definitely there) to Hell and kissed Eames, kissed him with all he had. Eames, who kissed back but was dead-set, Arthur knew, not to let things get much further than that tonight. Eames, always Eames. Warm, and alive and a bit of a bastard.
Fuck the butterflies, Arthur thought, I have Eames now.
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(Attraction is sort of easy. The difficult part is finding someone interested in really knowing you and, most especially, someone you want to really know you.)
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