15. Extreme Footsies (Part 2)
Fandom: Inception
Pairing(s): Ariadne/Yusuf, Cobb/Saito, Arthur/Eames
Genre: humor/romance
Rating: T
Length: 12,000 in two parts
Other Locations: fanfiction.net and inception_kink
Disclaimer: I don't own them. Don't even control them. They do what they want and I just write it down.
Summary: Ariadne wants to cheer Yusuf up and insists that they go on a triple date with Cobb and Saito and Arthur and Eames. The dinner doesn't exactly go as planned. Written to fill the prompt on the meme.
Part One is Here
Eames was paying Yusuf's strangely silent, tense behavior no mind because he knew Japanese and was finding Saito's side of the conversation very intriguing.
Itou, what is it?... Say again? What do you mean on fire? Did you put it out? Are they okay? How did he get the matches? YOU are the baby sitter, Itou! I gave my word you can handle this and you let a little boy catch his sister's doll on FIRE? What's the matter with you? No, I'm not going to tell him. I asked him to trust me about this-about you! I could fire you for this! Oh, no, it's just business. Sorry. The children are happy and eating ravioli. Why is she crying? She didn't get burned did she? What does a little bit mean? How can two young children be too much for a University graduate?
It was clear that Saito had no idea he was not the only one at the table that was fluent in his native tongue. Eames did not let it show that he was listening and understanding every word. Meanwhile, Ariadne turned to Arthur, brightly keeping the conversation going after Yusuf's rather strange drop of the ball at his turn to dote on his little architect.
"So," she grinned at Arthur, "what about you and the forger, eh?" she waggled her eyebrows. "Off again, on again, are we going to make up our minds this time?" leaning past Arthur to meet Eames' eyes she urged, "Stick it out?"
Eames' stomach turned as he recalled that his mother and father -the most faithful of all humans- had happily betrayed each other with chiropractors and German revenge sex. He eagerly scooped up his glass and downed it. Beside him, Arthur chuckled in that low, sexy-as-all-hell way of his and, with dimples showing, he shrugged, "Maybe. I don't know, as incorrigible as he is, I wouldn't mind keeping him around a little more consistently."
Arthur looked around at him, his dark eyes locking on Eames' green. The glass in his hand parted from his lips and sank slowly to the table as he forgot, for a moment, absolutely everything. His heart pounded because Arthur had, for the first time in nearly six years, admitted that he wanted Eames to stick around. His throat closed and he looked away, eyes fluttering as he found it hard to breathe.
Ariadne laughed and swatted playfully at Arthur's shoulder, "Awe, you old romantic rogue, you-both of you!" Eames forced a smile and then Saito ended his call. The fierce man turned back to the table with apologies. Cobb leaned into him to ask more questions about his kids and Saito made more reassurances, dropping a hand on the table between their plates as he did. Cobb's hand instantly dropped down onto it.
Eames cleared his throat and excused himself, making rather crass jokes about needing the loo. He tried his best not to run through the dining room as he made his way to the far side.
././././././.
When Saito had absently dropped his hand near Cobb's, the fairer man had instantly captured it to keep it there. He did it because he wanted to hold Saito's hand; they held hands in the car ride over. Why not now? They were supposed to, right? Being lovers and all of that. He had always liked holding hands, letting the world see who was his and who he belonged to. There was absolutely no reason not to do it just because his lover happened to be a man this time. Right?
Saito tugged lightly as if to politely take his hand back, but Cobb gave a reassuring squeeze, looked at him steadily, no, I want to hold you. Saito met his eye only briefly and then looked away, no longer trying to take his hand back but in no way returning the squeeze. Cobb grited his teeth and urged his boyfriend to let go and own up to it.
It was like Ariadne had said, if they couldn't be comfortable together in front of their friends, then what was the point? Cobb might not have known before if he wanted more out of Saito than what he was already getting, but instinctually taking Saito's hand had reminded him of what it had been like to be a part of something bigger than himself, a committed, loving relationship. He wanted it again. And with Saito.
So Saito was just going to have to grow a pair and hold his hand in public.
././././././.
Ariadne knew Yusuf wouldn't come like this, but she also knew it was driving him completely wild. (When she'd made the comment about begging for him, he'd literally quaked over there in his chair.) It was quite thrilling, wasn't it? Sex in public, it wasn't even over and she knew it was definitely something she'd like to try again.
Yusuf's pupils were dilated. He was fighting very hard to keep his breathing normal, which was why he was not speaking. His pelvis was making tiny thrusts into her foot that she was sure he couldn't control, and when she adjusted her foot so as to rub her big toe around the head, he dropped a hand under the table and grabbed her ankle. She resumed her previously set pace, and his fingertips pressed a line of marks into her calf.
When Eames left for the restroom and Arthur and Satio fell into conversation about Procolus Engineering, Ariadne left Cobb to enjoy his meal and met Ysusf's eye. He tried not to look at her, at first, but when he did, it was so unexpectedly predatory, the way a lion might look as he stood over a fresh kill, gazing up through his eyes lashes, already prepared to pounce again.
Her heart sped up at the sight--Yusuf had such amazing dark chocolate bedroom eyes--and her panties got significantly damper. She cleared her throat and looked away, landed in the middle of business talk she didn't understand and scrambled to pick up conversation with Cobb.
"So how's Professor Miles?" - WHOA. She hadn't meant to grab something that only intensified her predicament. (Yes, Ariadne had a thing for older intellectual British types who smiled and gave kind hugs.) She hiccupped and clamped her mouth shut, fingers going apologetically to her lips to disguise the noise as a kind of burp thing.
Cobb grinned and answered that the old man was still teaching, philandering with teaching assistants, and generally being the best European grandfather any children could ask for. Ariadne's thigh was burning from the exertion of one continuous motion, but she wouldn't stop. Not when Yusuf's grip on her leg was trembling in a most delicious way.
./././././././.
Eames loosened his tie and leaned over the sink, heart pounding excruciatingly too fast in a panic attack. He hadn't had one since he was a kid, used to get them all the time. He splashed cold water on himself and tried to remember that he wasn't going to die. Another man in the bathroom asked if he was alright and he nodded, insisted all was well, nothing he couldn't handle and the man left.
Alone in the bathroom, Eames drew a deep breath and focused on his reflection. He didn't see himself, he saw Arthur, looking at him with dimples on display (they so rarely were because his Serious Face had top priority). He heard his low, sheepish voice, I wouldn't mind keeping him around a little more consistently.
"What's it called?" Eames asked aloud with creases between his eyebrows. What was it called when your deepest darkest wish was granted right after you decided you didn't believe in it anymore? It had to be called something. Irony, or whatever. Fuck if he ever paid that much attention in English class.
Except for when Mr. Kenworth had taught Shakespeare, look out Romeo.
Eames pressed on his eyes and pushed his first homosexual (and underage) sexual experience out of his head. Not now. He splashed more cold water on his face and set to pacing. Arthur wanted to give it a real go this time. That's what he'd meant. Oh, this was big. Was it lovely? Yes and no.
Yes-God yes-because no one got under his skin and made him ache as much as that smart ass point man did, but also no because… Well, because it would fucking hurt if he gave this his all and it fell apart five, ten, forty years down the road. If not even Cornelius and Samantha Eames could stay together then everyone was fucked. Love didn't last. It couldn't -human nature ripped it to shreds. Human nature needed its space, dragged in extraneous lovers, incepted devastating ideas into each other, the works.
It all ended in pieces.
Eames ducked into a stall when his eyes started to sting and the door opened. He pressed his lips together and refused to let the tears come. The man did his business at the urinal, barely washed his hands, and left. Eames stayed in the stall, leaning on the tiled wall with his eyes pressed into his fore arm.
He needed a fucking drink.
././././././././.
Saito's hand was limp under Cobb's as Cobb continued to tell an enraptured Ariadne all about his father in law. She was asking a lot of questions, genuinely interested. The little woman was leaning forward in her seat, lips parted, eyes focused like she was eagerly soaking up every word; it was kind of freaking him out.
He glanced at Yusuf, who didn't seem to notice anything beyond his plate, and then at Arthur, who was listening to Saito's recount of how amazingly smooth business has been for him now that Fischer Morrow was no longer in the way; (they'd continued expanding in Africa, had opened up in Sydney, business was booming.)
He was holding Saito's hand with his left and Cobb needed it to wield the knife so he could finish his food. Not wanting to pull away from the man's touch entirely, he slid their joined hands off the table and dropped Saito's hand on his knee. Instantly, the hand retreated, but Cobb caught it and put it back, patted it as a silent command to leave it there, and then went to eating. (Saito just had a salad and could eat it left handed easily enough.)
He was somewhat surprised when it stayed there, but Saito's lack of enthusiasm was disheartening. His heart was pounding more than it should due to the fact that he was in a restaurant with another man's hand on his knee. Mal had sat with her hand on his knee in public before, plenty of his girlfriends had before her as well. A man doing it was no different, right? It felt no different, the same warm comfort of being claimed, wanted, connected. It wasn't insecurities that troubled his pulse into a race, it was the sheer newness of it.
But he sensed the tension in Saito who probably wasn't used to PDA even with women. It was just a hand on a knee, a tiny step above a hand on a hand. No big deal. Cobb telepathically sent orders to his partner to relax and enjoy himself.
A lull in the conversation led to Saito asking -having missed when Arthur asked earlier because he'd been on the phone, "Yusuf, are you well?"
The man looked up, oddly tense. He straightened his spine, shook out his shoulders, put on a smile, "Never better, actually."
"You have been very quiet."
"Good food," Yusuf answered, adding another, "Good," for emphasis that seemed a little out of place.
"How has the shop been?" Saito asked. Cobb dropped his knife, reached down and squeezed Saito's hand as if that was the button to make the man take back what he'd said. He hadn't told him what Ariadne had shared during her call and suddenly wished he had. But Yusuf released a long sigh and answered, "Oh, you know, the same old puttering around and dreaming."
"A cat had kittens!" Ariadne said in what to Cobb was a blaringly obvious detour in the conversation. "You know how there are hundreds of strays running around that place," she said with a wave of her hand, "You'd think we'd find kittens all the time but we don't usually."
"Ari has taken them all in, of course," Yusuf said, adding to Ariadne, "And, sweet, you can't call them strays when you feed them every day and have full names for all of them."
"I don't give them full names, you wanker," Ariadne said, bating at him playfully. He laughed, winked at her, scooted his chair in closer to the table, and she hiccupped, rather loudly this time.
"Where's Eames?" Arthur asked, twisting around to look toward the bathrooms.
Saito pulled his hand out of Cobb's and pushed his chair back, "I could actually use a trip myself. How about I become the search team?"
Arthur laughed, nodded. Saito stood, now free hand flexing and Cobb, upon seeing it, got the sense that Saito was going simply to put an end to the hand-on-his-knee thing. He returned to his food, stomach knotting and he wished he could just go home and be a dad. At least he knew how to do that right.
././././././.
Suddenly gaining a competitive streak somewhere in the middle of all that talk about kittens, Yusuf had kicked off the shoe of his right foot and now had his socked foot up the skirt of her dress, the ball of his foot right under his big toe rocking against an already excited enough place.
Was this normal?
Ariadne had no idea what was normal. She had a man's foot between her legs, her bare foot still stroking him through his trousers while expensive food and clothing all around were none the wiser. His leg was now stretched along the inside of hers, the fabric of his pants rubbing softly against the bare skin of her leg.
Her thigh was aching, but he was still holding her leg and was doing a little to help her hold it up as she moved her foot on him. She tried not to look down into her lap, where his foot rocked against her in a matching rhythm, and, Christ, how had he been keeping his cool for this long?
She stayed leaned forward with her weight on an elbow on the table. Screw it if wasn't good manners, this posture kept her breasts blocking the view of her lap that Arthur would have if he were to look over, where he'd certainly see something moving under her dress. She dropped a hand and gripped Yusuf's toes, but it didn't stop him. Not that she wanted him to stop. She did, but she didn't. It was beautiful agony.
Arthur and Cobb had picked up the conversation thread since Yusuf and Ariadne were both being so quiet. They talked (with a few vague pronouns here and there) of the recent jobs Arthur and Eames had gotten up to. Then Cobb told about the architecture firm he'd started to work for. It paid the bills. Nothing as exciting as shared dreaming, of course, blah blah blah.
Nothing as exciting as what's going on under the table, Ariadne thought.
./././././././.
Eames gave a start when Saito's voice sounded right outside his stall door, "Eames, are you alright?"
"Wha-?" he started and his voice cracked and he forced a laugh, "Of course, darling, I'm peachy."
Saito chuckled, his voice drifting over to the urinals, "I hope you aren't up to anything too private in here."
At that Eames really did laugh. He flushed the toilet, just because, and came out of the stall pretending to be doing up his pants. "What's this? You think I'm rubbing one off?"
"We were getting suspicious at the table; you left in a hurry and are taking your time."
"You filthy minded animal!" Eames purred in true delight, going to the sink to wash his hands. He saw in the mirror that his tie and top two buttons were still undone, his hair a mess from when he'd ran a hand through it without even realizing. He cleared his throat and set about straightening up as if it was normal for a man to look like this having been up to nothing in particular in a bathroom stall.
Saito finished at the urinal and drifted to the sink in the wake of the sound of fast moving water. He was frowning as he noticed the disheveled nature of the Englishman.
"You do not look peachy," he said.
With his full mouth in a very serious line, Eames' eyes slid over to meet Saito's in the reflection and he answered, "I'm fine."
Washing his hands, the other man asked, "Is everything alright with you and Arthur?"
"Is everything alright with Itou and the kids? No more fires, I hope." Eames countered, turning to face the businessman with a challenge in his eye. Saito gave a start and dried his hands, "You are filled with surprises, Mr. Eames."
"I try," he replied. He crossed his arms, "I am curious why you haven't told Cobb that he's needed at home. Jealous of the attention he gives his kids, are you?"
"Never," Saito said, "I simply do not want the night to be ruined. Cobb has been on edge about it."
"You're not worried he'd be pissed that you didn't tell him about a fire his son started?"
"It was minor, no one was hurt. Had Cobb heard about it, he'd of used it to insist on going home where he would have been unable to do anything more than Itou has already done to handle it. The whole night would have been derailed for nothing."
"Sounds like Cobb doesn't want to be here."
"Neither of us do," Saito admitted with a shrug.
"That hurts, Saito," Eames said, dramatically grabbing his chest. "So what's the problem, why not leave with him and be shot of us all?"
"We have something to prove," Saito answered.
"Curious, since you haven't looked at him, or touched him since arriving."
Saito's eyes narrowed, "Our business is between me and him, Mr. Eames."
"And I'll thank you to leave my business with Arthur between him and me."
Saito shrugged and made a motion to insist Eames leave the bathroom first. He really didn't want to, would rather stay in here until he had his swirling thoughts sorted, but he couldn't very well say that so he went when bade. They left the bathroom together, Eames wearing a brave face.
Right, playing pretend. It wasn't like he wasn't thumping good at it anyway.
./././././././.
Cobb glanced beyond Arthur and saw both Saito and Eames returning from the bathrooms. The sight of Saito brought a smile to Cobb's lips and that alerted Arthur to turn and take a look. Halfway through the dining room, Eames swiftly turned right around and hurried back into the restroom. Seeing this, Arthur murmured, "What the hell?" and left the table to check on his boyfriend.
The point man passed Saito without a word, and the businessman continued toward the table. He opened his mouth, perhaps to explain Eames' strange behavior, but just then his phone rang again. He pulled it out with an apology, glanced at the phone and excused himself, continuing on passed the table toward the bar to take the call.
Knowing for a fact that it was Itou calling again, Cobb stood and followed him, determined to take his turn talking to the baby sitter and then maybe saying goodnight to his kids over the phone since they would be going to bed before he got home.
./././././.
Abruptly, Ariadne and Yusuf were the only ones left at the table. They didn't mind at all. Yusuf was really grinding the ball of his foot into her now and with the absence of an audience, she allowed a low gasp that wouldn't be heard by neighboring tables, "God, Yusuf," she purred at him.
He grinned, eyes fluttering, "You started it."
"And you win," she said through her teeth.
"You bet I do," he said in that pouncing lion way, a wink.
"God," she said again, leaning back in her chair and pushing her pelvis into his foot. Her foot slid from his lap, his pleasure completely forgotten in her own. He massaged her in little circles, not too hard, not too light. Her body wept and wept for him, growing slicker, thicker, hotter. She leaned forward onto her elbows again, crossed her arms, closed her eyes, and hoped she wouldn't start shaking or moaning. She swallowed everything down, forgot to breathe.
With a jerk and something half like a word and half like an exclamation point, Ariadne straightened, reining in the moment, and closing her thighs on his foot. (Her legs had started spreading more and more of their own accord as pleasure pulsed through her, the tight skirt of her dress creeping up her thighs to accommodate for it. Had she allowed that to continue, she'd have been sitting in a rather obscene way in no time.)
When her legs closed on his foot, he dug his big toe in and she hiccup/gasped, hand flying to her mouth. She wanted to scream. She wanted to crawl over the table and have her way with Yusuf. A moment later, she had only her breath to speak on, "Okay, stop, stop, stop," she begged. He did, chuckling warmly and leaning forward across the table, reaching for her hand, "Let's go somewhere and get you sorted."
"Right now?" She tried not to shift around too much in her seat like she wanted to do because of the hot mess in her underwear.
"Why not? Everyone else is busy," Yusuf said, wagging his eyebrows. He jerked a head back toward the reception area, "Come with me to the coat check room and I'll clean up the mess I made," his dark eyes dropped to her lap and back up. A blush spread from where he wanted to put his mouth to her forehead. (Ariadne blushed with the whole front of her body.)
"This is supposed to be about you, though," she admitted. "I wanted you to have fun with your friends and forget-you know, everything. I just want you to be happy more than anything."
His teasing manner fell away. With a blink his bedroom eyes were kind Yusuf's eyes again. He gave her a little smile, "I know. And I appreciate it. But you don't have to call people in from around the world for extravagant dinner dates to make me happy."
She looked down at the implication that he resented being dragged out of Africa for a five star American restaurant. His fingers caught her chin and pulled her face back up. His smile was bright and filled with the kind of love he only ever whispered about between sweet nothings and forever when they were together in their bed. His hand cupped the side of her face, thumb stroking her cheek. She put her own hand over it and nuzzled into his touch.
././././././.
Coward. Eames hung his head over the sink, hated himself. He'd thought he could do it; put on a mask and pretend his way out of this. But the moment he'd seen Arthur, twisted around in his seat and smiling at the sight of him, he'd panicked. I wouldn't mind keeping him around a little more consistently.
It was all that he used to pretend he didn't want.
This thing he had with Arthur, this twisted we're-best friends-and-a-little-more-than-friends-but-don't-get-too-excited-because-I-can-live-without-you-watch-me-I'll-prove-it THING between them had been torturing him for years. And now it was over, with one little sheepish admission, disguised to be a whole lot less serious than it actually was. I wouldn't mind keeping him around more consistently. I wouldn't mind keeping him.
Eames wouldn't mind being kept. But what happened later? What happened when he, Eames, was finally used up and ruined for all others and then Arthur moved on? It was going to happen. In reality good things never lasted. In time, even the best things crumbled to dust. Eames wasn't sure he could stand living in a place like that.
"What's up?" Arthur suddenly asked from directly behind Eames. He jumped up, whirled around to face the younger, neater man. Arthur. Arthur, who was the complete opposite of Eames in that he came from a broken home, he dropped out of school, he had no other options than to do what he did. He was damn good at it; he was smart; he was used to change and getting what he wanted. He would never really commit to a loose end like Eames.
"My parents are getting a divorce!" Eames answered all at once.
"What?" Arthur asked with a grimace of surprise and Eames, pacing, spilled all about the joke e-mail and how his father had confessed to sleeping with a tourist after getting it.
Arthur winced, one eyebrow going up, a smirk in his eyes, "Cornelius," he said, naming Eames' father. He huffed, "The corn and the tourist. That was an unfortunate coincidence, wasn't it?"
"This isn't FUNNY!" Eames cried. Arthur started, held up his hands but Eames was pulling at his tie again, "They were fucking perfect, Arthur! I don't understand how they could let things just…" he lost his voice. His eyes pricked and he needed to be gone. Anywhere but here. He drew in a deep, steadying breath, headed for the door. "Anyway, this's been fun, darling. Maybe I'll see you around."
"What?" Arthur asked and he turned, ran and cut Eames off at the door, holding it closed. His expression now was dangerous, eyebrows low, dark eyes boring into him, "What? Eames, are you breaking up with me?"
"Might as well put an end to it now," Eames said. "We'll be wasting our time otherwise."
"The hell we would!" Arthur snapped shoving Eames with a flat hand on the center of his chest when he stepped forward to pull the door open anyway.
"You always leave, Arthur," Eames said. "For the past five bloody years you've been coming and going. It's been eight weeks--that's about the average time, isn't it? Okay, then, see you next time."
"Fuck you," Arthur breathed, no venom, jaw slack in hurt, "I left all those times because it was never anything serious. And I wasn't sure what I wanted then anyway!"
"Oh and you know now, is it?" Eames asked acidly.
"Yes, as a matter of fact." Arthur answered. He said it so simply, so resolved that Eames had to roll his eyes to break the integrity of the moment and he reached for the door again. (Arthur was little enough that Eames could open the door with Arthur in the way if he wanted.)
"Big strong words, but you don't really mean them, do you?"
Arthur was suddenly in his face, expression going hard, one sharp finger jabbed into Eames' chest, "Hey, I'm not your parents," he said. He blinked, face breaking into something soft, and he added, "I keep the promises I make."
"You haven't made any." Eames said.
"I could," Arthur answered. Their faces were close, and Eames had never seen Arthur being so open. The younger man spoke barely over a whisper, hands gripping the lapels of Eames' jacket, pulling him in, "I could promise you my whole heart."
Eames gulped, "You could?"
"Do you want it?"
"God, yes."
Arthur kissed him. It wasn't his fun, hard, I'm-going-own-you kisses; this was his tender, delicious, good-morning-I'm-going-to-take-my-time kisses. Eames trapped the slender frame in front of him in his arms and pulled them all the way together, Arthur's arms going up and over his shoulders.
A phone rang in a stall far to their right.
The jangling bells were killed halfway through and a moment later, the stall door clicked and swung open and a complete stranger stepped out, wide eyed and holding up his hands.
"I'm so sorry!" he said.
He wasn't looking directly at them; his neck and the top of his head were red. He hurried past them to the door, murmuring, "I could have left, but I didn't want to interrupt. Honestly, I was trying not to eavesdrop…" he pulled the door open, still not looking at them and gave a final, awkward grunt of, "but uh, congratulations-or whatever."
And then he was gone.
Arthur and Eames, who had sprung apart at realizing they had company, looked at each other, wide eyed, and then they burst out laughing. It felt so good for Eames to laugh right then that it hurt. He took Arthur's face in both hands and pulled him in, still laughing, "Did we just advance our relationship to a serious level in a men's bathroom?"
"Hey," Arthur chuckled, "We were never conventional, sweet cheeks."
The nickname brought color to Eames' face, and he closed his eyes, "What did I tell you about calling me that when you aren't tied up?"
"I am tied up. In you."
Eames roared with laughter, headed for the door, "SO CHEESY!"
Arthur shoved him, got to the door first. "Cheesy?" he asked, beaming, "You want to talk about cheesy? How's this for cheesy, huh? A forty year old man in a karaoke bar singing I Just Can't Help Falling In Love With You, stone cold sober, with actual tears running down his cheeks!"
"Is that never talking about it again?" Eames warned as he slipped through the door, " I told you I was in a weird place that month."
"You had your period, I know. Blah blah blah,"
"Piss off."
./././././.
Saito smiled when he turned at the touch on his arm to find Cobb. He said in English past his phone, "The children are just going to bed."
"I want to say goodnight," Cobb said with a motion to the phone. Saito said a few words to Itou and handed the phone over.
"Daddy!" James greeted in his ear and Philippa echoed him on speaker phone.
"Hey guys," he said, "Everything alright?"
"Yeah," they chorused.
"Okay, go to bed and behave now," he said, "I'll be home later after you're asleep. Goodnight."
"Night, Daddy."
"I love you guys."
"We love you, too!" they sang together with cackles and then the connection died. Cobb saw the screen had a capture of the day on the beach on it, the finished castle with Cobb and his kids in front of it. He smiled and handed it back to Saito.
The man took it and Cobb turned to head back to the table but Saito stopped him, "About earlier…"
Cobb knew he meant the hand holding thing and he suddenly wished he could just leave and then he made himself meet Saito's eyes and say, "It's just hand holding, Saito, alright?"
"I am not comfortable with it."
"Are you ashamed?" Cobb demanded. Saito's look said he wasn't going to justify that with an answer. He tugged at his jacket, "I think I would prefer if we had an agreement more like what Mr. Eames and Arthur have. They do not touch when they are not alone."
"But I like to show affection," Cobb said. It didn't come out as a whine. It didn't. "And I like to have affection shown to me. It's like I don't know what you're thinking when you won't look at me or touch or anything." He could look high and mighty all he wanted, Cobb was starting to think Saito was ashamed.
"I am thinking that we will have time for all of that later," Saito replied tightly. His short temper was at its edge. He grinned, dissolving the tension, "and I show you affection in my own ways. I bought you that suit."
Cobb did look drop dead sexy in fabric expensive enough to put his kids through a top private school for a year. The look in Saito's dark eyes as he looked the suit over promised that he bought the suit and would happily take it off him later. They stood in silence for a moment and Cobb asked suddenly,
"Is this going somewhere?"
"Immediately?" Saito teased, shook his head, "I do not approve of indecent behavior in public-"
"No," Cobb cut in with a blush and a laugh. He hadn't been talking about the stare. "I meant us." He cleared his throat, forced himself to meet Saito's eye and laid the line. "I can't do casual. Not with my kids to look after."
Saito blinked, jaw slackened in surprise.
Cobb felt sick. The long and happy day the Cobb family had spent on the beach with Saito had been fun, but an impromptu thing that Cobb hadn't meant to happen. He would have liked to keep his kids out of it, but Saito had arrived unexpectedly in the country and had just sort of tagged along in plans Cobb had already made.
As fun as it was, Cobb wished he hadn't allowed it. Had Saito never met the kids this could have been a wholly separate thing, Cobb's private business where he could have chosen to keep it casual. But he no longer had that option now that his kids would be asking when they could build castles with Saito-san again.
Saito glanced around as if to make sure they would not be overheard and caught Cobb's blue gaze with a smile, "I have spent my whole life with women; I would not have blundered into anything with a man lightly." He chuckled, adding, "Especially when there is a cherished friendship at risk."
His word choice of cherished made Cobb blush; God, practically everything about Saito made him blush. Ever since being with Saito for the first time (a hazy experience filled with an excess of alcohol, some intense philosophical discussion, and gut wrenching tenderness) Cobb had felt like a teenager who just experienced the realities of sex and remembered it every single time he saw the girl who'd pitied him into a first lesson. Saito was beaming at him, delighted by the color he was showing, "Shall we return to our friends?"
./././././.
Ariadne and Yusuf's friends arrived back at the table at the same time; all four of them smiling like they'd heard the best news in the world. The team finished their meals with Yusuf being significantly more talkative (now that so much blood wasn't being redirected from his brain to his shorts), Eames refraining from the indelicate jokes and comments (now that he wasn't feeling so alone in the face of personal tragedy), and Cobb and Saito loosening up (now that they'd actually discussed their relationship) and letting the others see that yes, the corn and the tourist were sitting in a tree, F-U-C-K-I-N-G.
They never touched, but Saito was not shy in talking about Cobb with affectionate tones and Cobb pretty much stayed red in the cheeks the whole time. Arthur and Eames, (after a quick exchange of, "Can I say?" - "No." - "Oh go on, lemme tell them. I'm dying it was so funny!" - "Fine"), had a story to tell about some poor sod they'd trapped in the bathroom while they'd dealt with some things. True to Eames' nature, he let it sound like the said things were more physical than emotional in nature.
"And then he congratulated us," Arthur snorted.
Saito (who didn't approve) had been trying not to be amused, but failed at that point, breaking down into fits of laughter with the rest of the table. Ariadne and Yusuf exchanged expressions of barely contained smugness, because they'd gotten away with their own indecency right under everyone's noses without being congratulated.
Then, after the check, they made promises to get together again for something fun before the week was up and two pairs plus Saito would skip back to their respective continents. Then each couple made their way back to their hotel rooms.
Cobb and Saito got a room as well; the kids being at Cobb's place they weren't going to go there. They went in Saito's car, the reserved man took advantage of tinted windows and showered affection on Cobb in ways that made him forget his name, and then in their room, Saito proved he was just as good at taking suits off as he was at buying them. He also proved that Cobb wasn't so old as being a full time father made him sometimes feel and that there was, in fact, nothing at all about sodomy that he was ashamed of.
Arthur and Eames headed to their hotel on foot, a rare occasion of walking arm-in-arm brought on by a fresh promise between them. At first, Eames still had some talking he needed to do about his parents. "God, I'm so fucking angry with them!" and then those confessions bled into others, "I'm scared shitless, right now Arthur," and "I'm crazy for you," and from there, Arthur started humming I Can't Help Falling In Love With You, and Eames started laughing, and when they finally made it to their room, they took their time making love. It had to be called that and not hot sex, because the usual profanity was replaced that night with other things, pleas and promises, and a few tears that weren't funny now being shed nowhere near a karaoke bar.
Ariadne and Yusuf took a cab, and-bloody-step-on-it-please; tangling up in the back so that the cabbie gave them a warning not to mess up his seats. And then they were falling into the hotel bed ten minutes later in a rain of kisses and whispers on hot breathes, "Oh, god, how I love you."
He pulled her tiny frame up the bed easily, and they stripped and kicked and wriggled and laughed their clothes away. Yusuf, going heavily to his haunches before her, made a show of catching her left foot and planting an open-mouthed kiss on the tender arch, murmuring against it, "You have a torture device here, my love."
"How'd we go this long without knowing the pleasures of feet?" Ariadne giggled.
"No bloody idea," Yusuf growled, kissing down her leg to her knee, down her thigh to her body. She tugged on his head so he would keep the kissing coming up toward her mouth where she wanted him. She smiled when their noses bumped but he kept his lips to himself. After a long line of caressing her body with them, he suddenly was denying her access, "What?" she asked, tangling her fingers in his hair-so much softer than even her own.
He studied her for a moment more, dark eyes shining, "Thank you."
She stroked his face, nodded, and he continued, gripped her hip and pulled her close, "I don't know what I would do without you, Ariadne."
"You don't have to worry about it," she said. "I'm here."
F I N