[December 10th] It's Less Exciting Than You'd Think
It's Less Exciting Than You'd Think
PG-13
Author : gyzym | Artist : bluestraggler
Author's Note: Uh, the point in here where there are some…random syllables mashed together? It's a transliteration of a Hebrew prayer called the V'ahavta (and okay really it's the transliteration of a part of Hebrew prayer called the Shema, but we don't need to go into it). Point being--it is part of a prayer that every Jew knows and has said many times, and that's all you need to know for this to make sense :D
"So," Ariadne says, apropos of nothing on December 23rd, "do you guys do the Chrismakkuh thing?
"Chrismakkuh," Arthur repeats, flat.
"Yeah," Ariadne says. "You know, because you're Jewish and Eames is Catholic."
"Okay," Arthur says, because there is a dangerous glint in Eames' eye, "that is a ridiculous word, and Hannakah is over already, and what part of 'non-practicing' is so difficult for you to grasp?"
"Oh come on, Arthur," Ariadne says, rolling her eyes. "We all know you fasted on Yom Kippur."
"Eames fasted on Yom Kippur," Arthur snaps. "I went on a hunger strike. To prove a point."
"Whatever you have to tell yourself, darling," Eames hums, draping himself over Arthur's shoulders. "Incidentally, though, if I say 'v'ahav'ta eit Adonai elohekha,' you say--"
"B'khol l'vav'kha uv'khol naf'sh'kha uv'khol--goddamnit, Eames," Arthur growls, trying to pull away. Eames just tightens his arms and laughs into Arthur's ear, warm and only faintly mocking.
Ariadne smirks.
"So," she says, "Chrismakkuh."
Arthur sighs and gives it up. He leans into Eames and pointedly does not listen as to the ridiculous tales of Christmas trees topped with stars of David and menorahs painted with merry Santa Clauses. Ariadne looks charmed when Eames is done, and Arthur doesn't have the heart to tell her it's a load of crap.
--
The next night, Arthur slams into their apartment with two plastic bags clutched in his hands like spoils of war.
"I might as well just go to temple," he complains, when Eames raises his eyebrows and takes them from him. "I see more Jews on Christmas Eve then I do the whole rest of the year combined."
"I hope you made it out of there with my moo goo gai pan intact," Eames says lightly, putting the bags down to slide Arthur's coat from his shoulders.
"No," Arthur snaps, "I got you General Tso's, because I don't know you at all."
Eames grins at him, tossing his coat over a chair. "My, my, someone's tetchy."
"What movies did you get?" Arthur asks, rather than replying. Eames hands him a stack of DVDs--four James Bond movies (predictable), It's A Wonderful Life (unusually sentimental), and--
"Oh, fuck yes," Arthur breathes, tossing the rest aside, "I haven't seen Fight Club in ages."
"Eggnog's on the counter," Eames calls, already making his way back to the living room. "Be a love and grab me a glass, would you?"
"On it," Arthur replies, filling two cups and taking off his shoes. He settles onto the couch next to Eames, trades him a glass for the box of beef with broccoli, and presses play.
"Hey, Arthur," Eames says sometime later, when the food's been abandoned and the eggnog is long gone.
"Mmm?" Arthur sighs, stirring from his place on Eames's chest.
"Happy Chrismakkuh," Eames murmurs, and Arthur can't help but grin.
"You too," he says, and he tilts his face up for the kiss he knows is coming, and finds he doesn't mind the stupid word so much after all.
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