Drabble: Baby, It's Cold Outside (Arthur/Eames)
Title: Baby, It's Cold Outside
Author: sarahyyy
Rating: PG
Character/Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Word Count: 701
Disclaimer: I do not, in any way, own anything.
A/N: For returnofthegaze who requested me to write an Arthur/Eames with the prompt "snowflake" over at the Drabble Prompt Post.
A/N 2: I need more Arthur/Eames prompts so...the tenth person to review gets to request a drabble!
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Arthur is drunk.
Eames’ couch is comfortable.
Arthur is very drunk.
Eames’ couch is very comfortable.
Arthur thinks maybe he should be headed back to his own apartment.
Fine, maybe Arthur isn’t as drunk as he thinks he is -or wishes to be- since he can still think. And right now his thoughts are very much focused on how warm Eames’ feels and how much he wants to curl up against Eames and fall asleep there.
“You should sleep, darling,” Eames murmurs, his voice close to Arthur’s ear.
Well obviously, Arthur notes half-drunkenly to himself, aside from being incredible at his job, Eames is also psychic and he can read Arthur’s mind. God really does like Eames more, doesn’t He?
“I should go home,” Arthur replies, sitting up from where he was leaning against Eames and immediately feels a great deal less warm than he was mere seconds ago.
“Arthur,” Eames looks up at him, “It’s freezing out there. The snow is probably up to your knees right now.”
Arthur’s face scrunches as he tries to squint outside the window. “I can’t see anything,” he groans.
Eames, because he is a bastard, laughs. “Oh, pet, that’s even more reason for me not to let you out of my flat.”
Arthur shakes his head because he’s always secretly thought that if he shakes hard enough, he will be able to shake off his drunkenness.
“I have to go back,” Arthur insists, “The others will never stop insinuating things about us if I stay.”
Eames cocks an eyebrow and Arthur wants to hit him hard on the head for being so unaware of things.
“Cobb has been giving me all these weird looks and reminding me that I have to remain professional while at work because he says he doesn’t want to fire any of us. Ariadne has almost exhausted her vocabulary bank of innuendos trying to get us together. Yusuf has been trying to lock us in closets, what for, I’m sure you can guess,” Arthur ticks off his fingers, “And Saito- God I don’t know, he probably orchestrated the fucking snow storm.”
Eames gives Arthur an amused look. “Does no one in the team have faith in me?”
Arthur laughs. “I do.”
Eames’ smile turns softer. “I know you do, snowflake,” he murmurs before he leans closer to Arthur, presumably to brush a romantic kiss on his lips.
Arthur wouldn’t know since he elbows Eames in the rib hard enough for him to let out a groan of pain as he draws back.
“What type of demented person calls someone else a ‘snowflake’?” Arthur demands, his eyes narrowing sharply.
Eames rolls his eyes. “It’s meant to be endearing.”
“It’s not working,” Arthur shoots back before he tries to stand up wobbly. “I need to get home.”
Eames pulls him back down to the couch. “You can’t even stand straight.”
“I need to get somewhere no one will call me a snowflake, at least,” Arthur sniffs disdainfully, removing himself away from Eames’ arms petulantly to drape himself over the arm of the couch, his eyes snapping shut almost immediately.
“You’re surprisingly articulate for a drunk,” Eames notes, trying to move closer to Arthur, only for the point man to open his eyes to glare at him.
“It’s a talent,” Arthur informs him, only closing his eyes once more when he is absolutely certain that the forger will not try to come closer to him again.
“If you don’t like ‘snowflake’,” Eames says with a sigh, “I suppose I can settle for something else; anything as long as you stop insisting on going out there to brave the storm.”
Arthur’s eyes flutter open and he stares dubiously at Eames. “You’ll call me ‘darling’ instead?” he asks tiredly and at this point, Arthur isn’t really sure he’s sober any more.
Eames grins and replies without missing a beat, “Of course, darling.”
Then Arthur moves closer to Eames and Eames wraps his arms around him and Arthur thinks that he is maybe in love with Eames.
But only when he is drunk.
Because anything otherwise would be insane.
His last thought before he dozes off is that he would like to get drunk more often.
Author: sarahyyy
Rating: PG
Character/Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Word Count: 701
Disclaimer: I do not, in any way, own anything.
A/N: For returnofthegaze who requested me to write an Arthur/Eames with the prompt "snowflake" over at the Drabble Prompt Post.
A/N 2: I need more Arthur/Eames prompts so...the tenth person to review gets to request a drabble!
--------------------------------
Arthur is drunk.
Eames’ couch is comfortable.
Arthur is very drunk.
Eames’ couch is very comfortable.
Arthur thinks maybe he should be headed back to his own apartment.
Fine, maybe Arthur isn’t as drunk as he thinks he is -or wishes to be- since he can still think. And right now his thoughts are very much focused on how warm Eames’ feels and how much he wants to curl up against Eames and fall asleep there.
“You should sleep, darling,” Eames murmurs, his voice close to Arthur’s ear.
Well obviously, Arthur notes half-drunkenly to himself, aside from being incredible at his job, Eames is also psychic and he can read Arthur’s mind. God really does like Eames more, doesn’t He?
“I should go home,” Arthur replies, sitting up from where he was leaning against Eames and immediately feels a great deal less warm than he was mere seconds ago.
“Arthur,” Eames looks up at him, “It’s freezing out there. The snow is probably up to your knees right now.”
Arthur’s face scrunches as he tries to squint outside the window. “I can’t see anything,” he groans.
Eames, because he is a bastard, laughs. “Oh, pet, that’s even more reason for me not to let you out of my flat.”
Arthur shakes his head because he’s always secretly thought that if he shakes hard enough, he will be able to shake off his drunkenness.
“I have to go back,” Arthur insists, “The others will never stop insinuating things about us if I stay.”
Eames cocks an eyebrow and Arthur wants to hit him hard on the head for being so unaware of things.
“Cobb has been giving me all these weird looks and reminding me that I have to remain professional while at work because he says he doesn’t want to fire any of us. Ariadne has almost exhausted her vocabulary bank of innuendos trying to get us together. Yusuf has been trying to lock us in closets, what for, I’m sure you can guess,” Arthur ticks off his fingers, “And Saito- God I don’t know, he probably orchestrated the fucking snow storm.”
Eames gives Arthur an amused look. “Does no one in the team have faith in me?”
Arthur laughs. “I do.”
Eames’ smile turns softer. “I know you do, snowflake,” he murmurs before he leans closer to Arthur, presumably to brush a romantic kiss on his lips.
Arthur wouldn’t know since he elbows Eames in the rib hard enough for him to let out a groan of pain as he draws back.
“What type of demented person calls someone else a ‘snowflake’?” Arthur demands, his eyes narrowing sharply.
Eames rolls his eyes. “It’s meant to be endearing.”
“It’s not working,” Arthur shoots back before he tries to stand up wobbly. “I need to get home.”
Eames pulls him back down to the couch. “You can’t even stand straight.”
“I need to get somewhere no one will call me a snowflake, at least,” Arthur sniffs disdainfully, removing himself away from Eames’ arms petulantly to drape himself over the arm of the couch, his eyes snapping shut almost immediately.
“You’re surprisingly articulate for a drunk,” Eames notes, trying to move closer to Arthur, only for the point man to open his eyes to glare at him.
“It’s a talent,” Arthur informs him, only closing his eyes once more when he is absolutely certain that the forger will not try to come closer to him again.
“If you don’t like ‘snowflake’,” Eames says with a sigh, “I suppose I can settle for something else; anything as long as you stop insisting on going out there to brave the storm.”
Arthur’s eyes flutter open and he stares dubiously at Eames. “You’ll call me ‘darling’ instead?” he asks tiredly and at this point, Arthur isn’t really sure he’s sober any more.
Eames grins and replies without missing a beat, “Of course, darling.”
Then Arthur moves closer to Eames and Eames wraps his arms around him and Arthur thinks that he is maybe in love with Eames.
But only when he is drunk.
Because anything otherwise would be insane.
His last thought before he dozes off is that he would like to get drunk more often.