[fic] we can never be alone
pg-13. somewhat of an au. for some unknown reason, eames is frightened of arthur. that doesn't stop arthur from trying to take advantage of eames when the forger gets drunk.
Arthur has never seen Eames so drunk before.
Correction. Arthur has never seen Eames drunk, period. This is only the second time Arthur has encountered Eames. Cobb had been so impressed with Eames’ skills the first time they worked a job together that he insisted on having him back on their next extraction. The extraction that happens to be the one they just completed without the slightest hitch. This is the reason why Arthur’s out for some drinks with Eames and Nash, while Cobb is at the hotel trying to get a hold of James and Philippa back in the United States.
Arthur can tell that the Eames’ inhibitions are completely lowered because he will actually look at Arthur directly if addressed.
Eames rarely does that.
When Arthur first met Eames a couple months ago, he soon noted that the forger wouldn’t look him in the eyes. His favored tactic is to give those sideways glances that linger at a spot on Arthur’s arm for the briefest amount of time necessary. Arthur remembers checking his sleeve to see if there was a stain or a spider, making sure Eames wasn’t trying to subtly tell him there was something offending on his perfectly tailored shirt.
Arthur turns his focus back to his immediate surroundings and instantly wishes he hadn’t because he is confronted with the image of Eames and Nash together.
Eames is currently all over Nash, the one who suggested they go out to celebrate a job well done. Eames leans up against him, their hips touching. One of his arms is slung carelessly around the other man’s shoulder, his mouth level with Nash’s ear. Arthur watches Eames’ lips move as he says things into Nash’s ear that make the man’s eyes go dark with lust. Arthur averts his gaze quickly when he sees Eames’ tongue dart out to lick at Nash’s neck.
He looks back over a ten seconds later, hoping that the obscene show of drunken affection is over and he’s quite startled to find that Eames is staring right at him. The man’s gaze is unfaltering, something that Arthur has never experienced coming from Eames and it unnerves him a bit.
Arthur honestly doesn’t know what to think when Eames winks at him while Nash turns his attention to the bartender.
Nash orders Eames another drink. Fucking asshole, trying to get Eames more wasted than he already is, Arthur thinks to himself. He half expects to see Nash drop some drug that’s meant to make its target extremely pliant into the glass while Eames isn’t looking.
Arthur wonders if Eames has any clue that Nash is trying to take advantage of him in his inebriated state. He might because when Nash hands the beer to Eames, he takes one quick swig before giving it back to Nash. Then he’s pushing away from the bar.
“I need to run to the loo,” Arthur is able to hear him say over the noise of approximately sixty people all talking at the same time. The small place they chose to go to is packed.
Nash looks a bit perturbed, probably disappointed that Eames didn’t accept his offering, but Eames pays him no mind. He brushes shoulders with Arthur as he passes him and pushes through the rest of the crowd, heading towards the bathroom sign.
Once Eames is no longer in sight, Nash wastes no time in turning to face the throng of men and women in the bar, scoping out what the place has to offer. Arthur watches as he locks eyes with a busty redhead at a table nearby and Arthur knows that Nash will go to her.
Right after the thought enters Arthur’s mind, Nash proceeds to expertly thread his way through the bodies between him and the woman. They begin chatting the moment Nash reaches his destination. She flashes a few grins at Nash and places her hand on the forearm he rests on the table.
A few minutes later, the woman gathers up her bag and jacket, taking Nash’s hand. They’re leaving. Nash gives a look back over his shoulder at Arthur and shrugs.
“Guess I won’t be having Eames tonight,” the gesture seems to say. The “You can try your luck with him” is implied. Arthur scowls at him. Nash rolls his eyes and exits the bar, the redhead right behind him.
Arthur stands by himself for about ten minutes. He begins to suspect that Eames got lost on his way to the bathroom when the man suddenly appears right next to him.
“Where’d Nash go off to?” Eames questions, talking like his tongue is somewhat heavier than usual, using the counter that Arthur is casually propping himself against for support. Without Cobb or Nash in the vicinity, Eames is normally uptight around Arthur, but the fact that he’s alone with Arthur now doesn’t seem to bother Eames at the moment.
“He left with someone else. I think he got sick of waiting for you to come back from the bathroom” Arthur states bluntly, deciding that beating around the bush is not the way to go on this one. Besides, he doesn’t feel like covering up for Nash.
Or maybe, just maybe Arthur is trying to get Eames to hate Nash.
“Well, fuck him then,” Eames slurs his words this time. He tries to appear annoyed but he ultimately ends up looking dejected. Arthur feels a strange sort of pity for Eames but that doesn’t stop him from executing the plan he formulated once Nash left the picture.
“I think it’s time we leave too,” Arthur concludes. “We should head back to the hotel.”
For this job, the whole team was staying in the same hotel. Since they are going to the same place it only makes sense for the two of them to take a taxi together. Arthur explains this to Eames who nods in agreement the moment the suggestion leaves Arthur’s mouth.
The fact that Eames acquiesces so quickly surprises Arthur. Any time a decision involving Arthur is put before Eames, the man always carefully calculates what he should do. It doesn’t take a long time for him to come to a conclusion per say, but Arthur can tell Eames considers his options when it comes to Arthur longer than he does with anyone else.
///
They’re out on the street and Arthur hails a cab. When a taxi pulls up alongside the curb, Arthur opens the door so Eames can enter first.
“So gentlemanly,” Eames mutters as he ducks his head to get in. Arthur almost calls for Eames to lower his head further, thinking that the man will hit it against the top of the car, but Eames manages to narrowly miss the injury.
Once in the cab, Eames’ mood seems to shift. The first five minutes of what is a fifteen-minute cab ride, Eames refuses to even acknowledge Arthur’s presence and Arthur doesn’t want to push the issue. He is fully prepared to accept the fact that Eames has reverted back to his normal behavior when it comes to anything concerning Arthur.
But everything changes when Eames gets the hiccups. In between each hitch of breath, Eames giggles, a high tittering sound that makes Arthur smirk. Eames finally looks over at Arthur, an exasperated expression on his face.
“Bloody hiccups,” Eames says while shaking his head slowly back and forth, a burst of laughter escaping right after he finishes lamenting his current plight.
By the time they’re at the hotel, Eames’ hiccups are gone, but he can’t stop laughing. Eames has contracted a case of the giggles. Arthur tells him so and Eames simply waves him off, trying to deny Arthur’s diagnosis.
Eames almost falls from the cab when he slides across the leather seats to get out. Arthur reaches for Eames’ hand, hoping he’s not overstepping a boundary in doing so. He lets out a mental sigh of relief when Eames allows him to take it.
Eames is still laughing, his free hand is clutching at his right side, as Arthur leads him through the automatic door.
When the two of them are waiting for the elevator, Eames decides to shake himself free of Arthur’s grasp. He’s wheezing now, his brief case of the giggles miraculously cured in the time it took for them to walk across the lobby.
Arthur ushers Eames into the elevator when it opens in front of them. He presses in the button for the 7th floor, Eames’ floor. Eames has enough sense about him to notice that Arthur only pressed in one button.
“You’re not on the same floor as me,” he points out. Eames his right, Arthur is staying on the 9th floor, his room is right next to Cobb’s. Eames’ head droops to the side as they take the elevator up, an inch or two more and Eames would have been lightly resting it on Arthur’s shoulder.
“I know. I just want to make sure you get into your room. Okay?” Arthur responds to Eames’ observation, sticking with the innocent route, even though his intentions are anything but.
He realizes his earlier thoughts of Nash are completely hypocritical at this point when he’s going to follow through on what the other man had planned on doing before he got distracted by that woman.
Arthur doesn’t care though.
The doors slide open with a ding and Eames is the first one out. Arthur trails a few feet behind him, wondering if Eames will choose the right door to slide his card into. It’s alright if he doesn’t, Arthur knows what room Eames is staying in and he’ll guide him towards the correct number if he sees that Eames is straying too far.
Eames almost tries to get into the room next to his, but Arthur tuts. The sound must jar Eames’ memory for some odd reason because he promptly goes to stand over in front of his room. He turns around to face Arthur, his eyes unreadable.
Arthur recognizes there’s a chance that Eames’ muddled mind is piecing together his true motives. He knows he has to make his move before the realization fully formulates, before Eames scrambles away from his grasp. One, two, three steps and Arthur is right in front of Eames, crowding him up against the door, their noses mere inches apart.
Eames’ eyes are blown wide now and his breath comes out in sporadic pants. Arthur lowers his head down to kiss Eames. He licks at Eames’ pouty bottom lip and the man’s mouth drops open, allowing Arthur’s tongue to delve inside.
If Arthur’s blood wasn’t been pounding so loudly in his ears, he might have heard the tiny whimper of protest Eames lets out as he begins exploring the forger’s mouth.
Arthur’s hands, which had been gently touching the other man’s face, are presently trailing down Eames’ sides. He slides them seductively down the plane of Eames’ stomach, feeling the hard muscle beneath the dress shirt. Arthur stops at Eames’ belt, which is pulled tight to keep his slightly large pants snug against his waist, and begins unbuckling it. The zipper is next on Arthur’s list and once he’s unzipped it, he slides a hand down past Eames’ boxers and-
He pulls his hand back out immediately when he finds that Eames isn’t hard at all.
At this point it becomes painfully obvious to Arthur that Eames is in no way responding to any of his ministrations. In fact, he’s standing completely stock-still as though he’s frozen in a block of ice. It’s like he isn’t even breathing. Arthur gets the urge to put his hand in front of Eames’ open mouth to feel if any puffs of breath are coming out.
Taking a step back, Arthur observes how Eames is staring at a point past his head, his gaze unseeing. Arthur waves a hand in front of his face, but Eames’ eyes don’t blink. They don’t even move.
This worries Arthur. He reaches out to Eames’ shoulder, giving the man a rough shake.
“Eames?” his voice pitches higher with panic at the end. This brings Eames out of his strange trance with some unexpected results.
Eames slaps Arthur’s hand, which is still resting on his shoulder, away from his body. He then gives Arthur a violent shove. Arthur, completely caught off guard, goes flying into the wall opposite of Eames’ door. He slides down to the floor, the wind knocked out of him, gasping for breath.
Arthur can’t speak and he’s having trouble picking himself up from the floor. He watches Eames’ shaky attempts at inserting his room key into the mechanism on his door, needing a couple of tries before it actually slips in correctly.
Right before Eames shuts the door with a resounding slam, he looks back at Arthur, fear clearly evident on his face. Arthur curses at himself for being the cause of that frightened expression.
After some time, air finally begins to flow smoothly into Arthur’s lungs and he contemplates his next move. If Arthur truly wanted to, he could find a way to get into Eames’ room, but he knows that’s not the best way to resolve what just transpired between the two of them. He doesn’t want to scare Eames any more than he already has.
Arthur sighs in defeat, deciding he should go up to his room. While in the elevator, he tries to comfort himself by rationalizing that he never could have expected that Eames would react in such a way to his advances.
But deep, down inside he knows that isn’t the case. He was kidding himself by not admitting that he was aware of the possibility all along.
///
The next afternoon, Arthur meets Cobb and Nash in the lobby. Eames is nowhere to be had.
“I thought he was going to leave around the same time we were. But the woman at the desk told me he left at six o’ clock this morning. I wonder what caused him to change his plans,” Cobb glances over at Arthur when he says this, expecting his point man to magically have the answer.
“How should I know?” Arthur responds, doing his best to pull off a nonchalant attitude. He doesn’t want to let on that he knows exactly what happened that made Eames sneak out of the hotel at the crack of dawn. Eames obviously wanted to avoid him.
Cobb bends down to pick up his luggage bag and Nash shoots Arthur a suspicious look. In that moment, Arthur resents Nash more than anyone he ever has in his entire life. His blood boils and he wants to punch Nash right in the face. Arthur would get great satisfaction out of breaking his nose or knocking out a few teeth.
Cobb rights himself and the moment passes. Arthur settles on pinning Nash with a menacing stare before taking a few deep breaths in order to calm down.
Totally unaware of the exchange between his point man and architect, Cobb strides ahead towards the hotel exit where a taxi is waiting. Nash goes next, but then falls behind when Arthur begins following after the both of them.
“I’m guessing we won’t be working with Eames for a long, long time,” Nash says under his breath so that only Arthur can hear.
Even though it’s not a common occurrence, Arthur still hates when Nash is right.
Arthur has never seen Eames so drunk before.
Correction. Arthur has never seen Eames drunk, period. This is only the second time Arthur has encountered Eames. Cobb had been so impressed with Eames’ skills the first time they worked a job together that he insisted on having him back on their next extraction. The extraction that happens to be the one they just completed without the slightest hitch. This is the reason why Arthur’s out for some drinks with Eames and Nash, while Cobb is at the hotel trying to get a hold of James and Philippa back in the United States.
Arthur can tell that the Eames’ inhibitions are completely lowered because he will actually look at Arthur directly if addressed.
Eames rarely does that.
When Arthur first met Eames a couple months ago, he soon noted that the forger wouldn’t look him in the eyes. His favored tactic is to give those sideways glances that linger at a spot on Arthur’s arm for the briefest amount of time necessary. Arthur remembers checking his sleeve to see if there was a stain or a spider, making sure Eames wasn’t trying to subtly tell him there was something offending on his perfectly tailored shirt.
Arthur turns his focus back to his immediate surroundings and instantly wishes he hadn’t because he is confronted with the image of Eames and Nash together.
Eames is currently all over Nash, the one who suggested they go out to celebrate a job well done. Eames leans up against him, their hips touching. One of his arms is slung carelessly around the other man’s shoulder, his mouth level with Nash’s ear. Arthur watches Eames’ lips move as he says things into Nash’s ear that make the man’s eyes go dark with lust. Arthur averts his gaze quickly when he sees Eames’ tongue dart out to lick at Nash’s neck.
He looks back over a ten seconds later, hoping that the obscene show of drunken affection is over and he’s quite startled to find that Eames is staring right at him. The man’s gaze is unfaltering, something that Arthur has never experienced coming from Eames and it unnerves him a bit.
Arthur honestly doesn’t know what to think when Eames winks at him while Nash turns his attention to the bartender.
Nash orders Eames another drink. Fucking asshole, trying to get Eames more wasted than he already is, Arthur thinks to himself. He half expects to see Nash drop some drug that’s meant to make its target extremely pliant into the glass while Eames isn’t looking.
Arthur wonders if Eames has any clue that Nash is trying to take advantage of him in his inebriated state. He might because when Nash hands the beer to Eames, he takes one quick swig before giving it back to Nash. Then he’s pushing away from the bar.
“I need to run to the loo,” Arthur is able to hear him say over the noise of approximately sixty people all talking at the same time. The small place they chose to go to is packed.
Nash looks a bit perturbed, probably disappointed that Eames didn’t accept his offering, but Eames pays him no mind. He brushes shoulders with Arthur as he passes him and pushes through the rest of the crowd, heading towards the bathroom sign.
Once Eames is no longer in sight, Nash wastes no time in turning to face the throng of men and women in the bar, scoping out what the place has to offer. Arthur watches as he locks eyes with a busty redhead at a table nearby and Arthur knows that Nash will go to her.
Right after the thought enters Arthur’s mind, Nash proceeds to expertly thread his way through the bodies between him and the woman. They begin chatting the moment Nash reaches his destination. She flashes a few grins at Nash and places her hand on the forearm he rests on the table.
A few minutes later, the woman gathers up her bag and jacket, taking Nash’s hand. They’re leaving. Nash gives a look back over his shoulder at Arthur and shrugs.
“Guess I won’t be having Eames tonight,” the gesture seems to say. The “You can try your luck with him” is implied. Arthur scowls at him. Nash rolls his eyes and exits the bar, the redhead right behind him.
Arthur stands by himself for about ten minutes. He begins to suspect that Eames got lost on his way to the bathroom when the man suddenly appears right next to him.
“Where’d Nash go off to?” Eames questions, talking like his tongue is somewhat heavier than usual, using the counter that Arthur is casually propping himself against for support. Without Cobb or Nash in the vicinity, Eames is normally uptight around Arthur, but the fact that he’s alone with Arthur now doesn’t seem to bother Eames at the moment.
“He left with someone else. I think he got sick of waiting for you to come back from the bathroom” Arthur states bluntly, deciding that beating around the bush is not the way to go on this one. Besides, he doesn’t feel like covering up for Nash.
Or maybe, just maybe Arthur is trying to get Eames to hate Nash.
“Well, fuck him then,” Eames slurs his words this time. He tries to appear annoyed but he ultimately ends up looking dejected. Arthur feels a strange sort of pity for Eames but that doesn’t stop him from executing the plan he formulated once Nash left the picture.
“I think it’s time we leave too,” Arthur concludes. “We should head back to the hotel.”
For this job, the whole team was staying in the same hotel. Since they are going to the same place it only makes sense for the two of them to take a taxi together. Arthur explains this to Eames who nods in agreement the moment the suggestion leaves Arthur’s mouth.
The fact that Eames acquiesces so quickly surprises Arthur. Any time a decision involving Arthur is put before Eames, the man always carefully calculates what he should do. It doesn’t take a long time for him to come to a conclusion per say, but Arthur can tell Eames considers his options when it comes to Arthur longer than he does with anyone else.
///
They’re out on the street and Arthur hails a cab. When a taxi pulls up alongside the curb, Arthur opens the door so Eames can enter first.
“So gentlemanly,” Eames mutters as he ducks his head to get in. Arthur almost calls for Eames to lower his head further, thinking that the man will hit it against the top of the car, but Eames manages to narrowly miss the injury.
Once in the cab, Eames’ mood seems to shift. The first five minutes of what is a fifteen-minute cab ride, Eames refuses to even acknowledge Arthur’s presence and Arthur doesn’t want to push the issue. He is fully prepared to accept the fact that Eames has reverted back to his normal behavior when it comes to anything concerning Arthur.
But everything changes when Eames gets the hiccups. In between each hitch of breath, Eames giggles, a high tittering sound that makes Arthur smirk. Eames finally looks over at Arthur, an exasperated expression on his face.
“Bloody hiccups,” Eames says while shaking his head slowly back and forth, a burst of laughter escaping right after he finishes lamenting his current plight.
By the time they’re at the hotel, Eames’ hiccups are gone, but he can’t stop laughing. Eames has contracted a case of the giggles. Arthur tells him so and Eames simply waves him off, trying to deny Arthur’s diagnosis.
Eames almost falls from the cab when he slides across the leather seats to get out. Arthur reaches for Eames’ hand, hoping he’s not overstepping a boundary in doing so. He lets out a mental sigh of relief when Eames allows him to take it.
Eames is still laughing, his free hand is clutching at his right side, as Arthur leads him through the automatic door.
When the two of them are waiting for the elevator, Eames decides to shake himself free of Arthur’s grasp. He’s wheezing now, his brief case of the giggles miraculously cured in the time it took for them to walk across the lobby.
Arthur ushers Eames into the elevator when it opens in front of them. He presses in the button for the 7th floor, Eames’ floor. Eames has enough sense about him to notice that Arthur only pressed in one button.
“You’re not on the same floor as me,” he points out. Eames his right, Arthur is staying on the 9th floor, his room is right next to Cobb’s. Eames’ head droops to the side as they take the elevator up, an inch or two more and Eames would have been lightly resting it on Arthur’s shoulder.
“I know. I just want to make sure you get into your room. Okay?” Arthur responds to Eames’ observation, sticking with the innocent route, even though his intentions are anything but.
He realizes his earlier thoughts of Nash are completely hypocritical at this point when he’s going to follow through on what the other man had planned on doing before he got distracted by that woman.
Arthur doesn’t care though.
The doors slide open with a ding and Eames is the first one out. Arthur trails a few feet behind him, wondering if Eames will choose the right door to slide his card into. It’s alright if he doesn’t, Arthur knows what room Eames is staying in and he’ll guide him towards the correct number if he sees that Eames is straying too far.
Eames almost tries to get into the room next to his, but Arthur tuts. The sound must jar Eames’ memory for some odd reason because he promptly goes to stand over in front of his room. He turns around to face Arthur, his eyes unreadable.
Arthur recognizes there’s a chance that Eames’ muddled mind is piecing together his true motives. He knows he has to make his move before the realization fully formulates, before Eames scrambles away from his grasp. One, two, three steps and Arthur is right in front of Eames, crowding him up against the door, their noses mere inches apart.
Eames’ eyes are blown wide now and his breath comes out in sporadic pants. Arthur lowers his head down to kiss Eames. He licks at Eames’ pouty bottom lip and the man’s mouth drops open, allowing Arthur’s tongue to delve inside.
If Arthur’s blood wasn’t been pounding so loudly in his ears, he might have heard the tiny whimper of protest Eames lets out as he begins exploring the forger’s mouth.
Arthur’s hands, which had been gently touching the other man’s face, are presently trailing down Eames’ sides. He slides them seductively down the plane of Eames’ stomach, feeling the hard muscle beneath the dress shirt. Arthur stops at Eames’ belt, which is pulled tight to keep his slightly large pants snug against his waist, and begins unbuckling it. The zipper is next on Arthur’s list and once he’s unzipped it, he slides a hand down past Eames’ boxers and-
He pulls his hand back out immediately when he finds that Eames isn’t hard at all.
At this point it becomes painfully obvious to Arthur that Eames is in no way responding to any of his ministrations. In fact, he’s standing completely stock-still as though he’s frozen in a block of ice. It’s like he isn’t even breathing. Arthur gets the urge to put his hand in front of Eames’ open mouth to feel if any puffs of breath are coming out.
Taking a step back, Arthur observes how Eames is staring at a point past his head, his gaze unseeing. Arthur waves a hand in front of his face, but Eames’ eyes don’t blink. They don’t even move.
This worries Arthur. He reaches out to Eames’ shoulder, giving the man a rough shake.
“Eames?” his voice pitches higher with panic at the end. This brings Eames out of his strange trance with some unexpected results.
Eames slaps Arthur’s hand, which is still resting on his shoulder, away from his body. He then gives Arthur a violent shove. Arthur, completely caught off guard, goes flying into the wall opposite of Eames’ door. He slides down to the floor, the wind knocked out of him, gasping for breath.
Arthur can’t speak and he’s having trouble picking himself up from the floor. He watches Eames’ shaky attempts at inserting his room key into the mechanism on his door, needing a couple of tries before it actually slips in correctly.
Right before Eames shuts the door with a resounding slam, he looks back at Arthur, fear clearly evident on his face. Arthur curses at himself for being the cause of that frightened expression.
After some time, air finally begins to flow smoothly into Arthur’s lungs and he contemplates his next move. If Arthur truly wanted to, he could find a way to get into Eames’ room, but he knows that’s not the best way to resolve what just transpired between the two of them. He doesn’t want to scare Eames any more than he already has.
Arthur sighs in defeat, deciding he should go up to his room. While in the elevator, he tries to comfort himself by rationalizing that he never could have expected that Eames would react in such a way to his advances.
But deep, down inside he knows that isn’t the case. He was kidding himself by not admitting that he was aware of the possibility all along.
///
The next afternoon, Arthur meets Cobb and Nash in the lobby. Eames is nowhere to be had.
“I thought he was going to leave around the same time we were. But the woman at the desk told me he left at six o’ clock this morning. I wonder what caused him to change his plans,” Cobb glances over at Arthur when he says this, expecting his point man to magically have the answer.
“How should I know?” Arthur responds, doing his best to pull off a nonchalant attitude. He doesn’t want to let on that he knows exactly what happened that made Eames sneak out of the hotel at the crack of dawn. Eames obviously wanted to avoid him.
Cobb bends down to pick up his luggage bag and Nash shoots Arthur a suspicious look. In that moment, Arthur resents Nash more than anyone he ever has in his entire life. His blood boils and he wants to punch Nash right in the face. Arthur would get great satisfaction out of breaking his nose or knocking out a few teeth.
Cobb rights himself and the moment passes. Arthur settles on pinning Nash with a menacing stare before taking a few deep breaths in order to calm down.
Totally unaware of the exchange between his point man and architect, Cobb strides ahead towards the hotel exit where a taxi is waiting. Nash goes next, but then falls behind when Arthur begins following after the both of them.
“I’m guessing we won’t be working with Eames for a long, long time,” Nash says under his breath so that only Arthur can hear.
Even though it’s not a common occurrence, Arthur still hates when Nash is right.