fic: JOB REQUIREMENTS
Title: JOB REQUIREMENTS
Fandom: Inception
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 4k
Summary: Arthur thinks Eames' flat is a mess. Eames has a solution for that.
Notes: For foxxcub's Kissing Meme. Thanks as always to reinventweather for the beta work.
It all starts when Arthur takes a job in London. Two days into the job, his hotel's internet goes out. They give him a sincere apology and a list of nearby locations with free wifi, but all of these places conveniently close for the night by 10 o'clock, which is simply unacceptable.
On day three, Arthur is frustrated and at least a solid day behind on his research, so he calls Eames.
"Arthur!" Eames says instantly, when most people would generally say 'hello'. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"
"Your flat in London. One, does it have internet connectivity, and two, can I use it for this purpose for the next six weeks?"
Eames hums happily. "One, yes, and two, by all means, darling. I'd love the company."
Arthur makes a noise that is completely dignified, thank you, and not pained at all. "You're in town?"
"Having grown up here and owned this flat for seven years, I would argue that you're the one that's 'in town.'"
"My hotel's internet went down," he explains. "I didn't mean to just invite myself over to where you're staying."
"No need to justify it to me. What I don't understand is why you're not already on your way over here. I know how you get if you can't get in your 20-hour workdays."
It's a gross exaggeration, but Arthur does need the help, so he doesn't argue. He manages to keep from arguing too much until Eames gives him the address, then he hangs up and gathers everything he needs.
******
"Thank you for this," Arthur says as soon as Eames opens the door. Eames gestures him in, offering to take his laptop bag, but Arthur simply ignores him as he comes in out of the cold. It is blissfully warm in Eames' flat, a welcome discovery since Arthur left his jacket back in his hotel room.
"There's a desk in the living room," Eames says, pointing out the direction. "Let me know if you need anything."
Eames' apartment is huge, but getting to the living room is fairly straightforward. Still, the first thing Arthur says as he leaves the entryway is, "This place is a mess."
He realizes this is perhaps not the best thing to tell your generous host, or whatever you call a temporary provider of internet, but it is Eames, and Arthur can't help himself. Eames chuckles, moving ahead of Arthur to clear off the desk. Arthur makes a horrified noise when "clearing off the desk" really means "pushing a stack of books and papers to the floor".
"Seriously, how can you live like this? How do you ever find anything?"
"I have a system," Eames assures him, pulling a book from the stack now on the floor and looking at it curiously. Arthur has a feeling his 'system' is more of a 'wait until something turns up and then use it' situation. "Feel free to push anything out of your way if need be. I'll be right in there," he says, pointing, "if you need something."
Arthur nods, grateful for the privacy, and silently notes that he won't be needing anything. Of course, a few minutes later he runs into a problem that Eames honestly should have foreseen. "Eames!" he shouts. "What's your internet password?"
No answer.
"Eames?" Arthur says again. Still no answer.
With a frustrated sigh, Arthur pushes back the desk chair and heads back to the room Eames had disappeared into.
The door is half-closed, so Arthur knocks as he pushes it the rest of the way open. It's Eames' bedroom, which is obvious by the fact that Eames is propped up on one side of his bed, headphones blaring and newly-rediscovered book in his hands, but that's the only way Arthur knows. There are clothes, books, and other items scattered everywhere. Arthur can't even see the floor.
"Oh," Eames says, discovering Arthur. He pushes his headphones down onto his neck and smiles back at him. "Yes?"
Arthur makes a whimpering noise. "How can you walk?"
"Well, dear, I put one foot in front of the other..."
"Your internet password," Arthur interrupts. He doesn't have time for these games. "I need it."
"Oh, of course. It's Gallifrey, darling. G-A-"
"L-L-I-F-R-E-Y," Arthur finishes, nodding. "All lowercase?"
Eames looks delighted. "Yes." He looks about to say something else, but Arthur moves quickly away from the door, mumbling his thanks. He figures it would take at least five minutes for Eames to wade his way out of the room anyway, and the effort will surely stop him.
He settles in at Eames' desk, pulling up what he's got so far to decide his next place to look. Before he knows it, a couple hours have passed and he's feeling hungry. He probably should have eaten something before coming over to Eames' place. He stands up and stretches, contemplating his options. If he's going out, he might as well go back to his hotel for that jacket. And what if the internet's back up when he gets there? He should take his laptop with him in that case, but then it would be so much trouble to set back up...
As he's contemplating all this, Eames comes out of his room and makes an appreciative noise at Arthur stretching. Arthur lowers his arms quickly and pulls at his shirt where it's ridden up.
"You're wearing a T-shirt and jeans," Eames says as if he's just noticed. "That's new."
Arthur rolls his eyes. "I don't wear suits all the time, Eames."
"Since when?"
"Since always. You've just never seen me after I've settled in for the day."
"Which you acknowledge is a shame," Eames says, nodding. "Better late than never, I suppose."
"I was just going for some dinner," Arthur says, ignoring Eames' implications and reaching for his wallet.
"What kind of host would I be if I made you go pick up your own food? No, we'll order take-away. I was just coming to ask you what you'd like."
He thrusts a menu into Arthur's hands, and at first all Arthur can think is "how did he find this in all that mess?" But then he focuses enough to pick a meal, then tells Eames which one he wants with a grateful smile.
He goes back to work in the meantime, and he's in the middle of a breakthrough when the food arrives. He really doesn't want to stop, so he's both surprised and relieved when Eames sets his food down on the side of the desk, not saying a word.
A headache starts to set in around midnight, then Arthur realizes oh, it's midnight. Eames is behind him, sitting on the couch watching a nature documentary at a low volume, and Arthur wheels around to talk to the back of his head. "Why didn't you tell me it was so late?"
Eames twists to look at Arthur. "'So late'? Arthur, it's barely midnight. I know you keep much later hours than this, and not for any of the fun reasons."
"I should head back," he insists, already rounding up his things. He's dreading the ride back in the cold, but hopefully it will help ease his headache. Eames appears next to his desk, stacking his folders neatly and handing them to Arthur. "Oh, so you do know how to be organized," Arthur says with a smirk.
"At least let me drive you," Eames says, and so Arthur soon finds himself wedged into the passenger seat of Eames' tiny Mini Cooper.
He sleeps fitfully that night, and when he meets up with his team the following morning, he feels like he has nothing to show for it, even though he's made new discoveries since yesterday.
With this frustration in mind, he heads straight to Eames' flat from the warehouse.
"You're back!" Eames greets him, smiling broadly.
"I see you haven't made any extra effort to clean up," Arthur says, breezing into the living room. It's not entirely true - Eames at least had the decency to throw away the food boxes, a fact for which Arthur is eternally grateful.
Arthur sets up everything just as he had it yesterday, opens up his laptop, and... has no idea where to go from here.
"How do you take your coffee?" Eames calls from the kitchen.
Arthur clicks around on some of his open tabs, hoping for inspiration. "Today? Black."
A few seconds later, Eames strolls in and hands Arthur a mug filled with fresh coffee that smells heavenly. "Oh god," Arthur says reverently, inhaling the scent. He takes a deep gulp of it and hums contentedly. "Eames, you are my favorite person today."
"Am I?" Eames says, delighted. "I'll have to note that for the future."
Eames dutifully leaves him alone after that, but after ten minutes of clicking around nothing, Arthur finally gives in to the impulse to take a break. He brings his coffee into Eames' room and just starts talking. Eames talks right back, so he clearly doesn't have a problem with it, and Arthur doesn't realize he's started cleaning up the room until Eames calls him on it.
"Well I hardly have a place to sit. I'm just trying to make this place slightly accommodating."
"Then by all means, continue," Eames says, amused. After a pause, he adds, "I see you're back to the monkey suit today."
"I came straight from work," Arthur says, creating a pile of clothes. If Eames doesn't have a laundry basket, he'll just have to make do. He can carry them out to the dumpster if Eames won't agree to get them washed.
"You know, you could just stay here."
Arthur sighs, saying, "No thank you." It's hard enough feeling like he owes Eames anything now, but at least it's just the fucking internet. Staying here would make it even worse, and Eames' jokes would no doubt escalate. Arthur's not sure he can handle the false innuendo when he's just woken up in the morning.
Eames, surprisingly, lets it go. He asks Arthur about the job he's on, and Arthur rambles on about it nonchalantly until, suddenly, something Eames says gives Arthur an idea.
Eames' laugh carries after him as he rushes back to his computer, and about five minutes later, his coffee cup returns to him, along with Eames hand, warm on his shoulder.
Arthur works and works, uncovering more and more relevant information. At some point, Eames sets food down next to him, and Arthur eats it without paying much attention.
"Arthur," Eames whispers, later, coming up behind him.
"I know, Eames, I'll clear out of here in a bit."
"Arthur, it's two in the morning," Eames says quietly.
"Shit," Arthur says succinctly. "You should have said something earlier. I didn't--"
"You don't have to go," Eames interrupts. "I just thought, if you wanted to pick up some clothes for tomorrow, we'd best go now."
Arthur shakes his head, triple-checking that he's saved his most recent document before shutting off his computer. "No, I'll go. I can call a cab, you don't have to drive me."
Eames looks slightly disappointed, but Arthur's too busy getting his stuff together to give it much thought. "Arthur, you really must give me more credit than that."
******
The next day, when everything is wrapped up with his team, Arthur comes outside to discover Eames waiting for him outside the warehouse. Eames takes him back to the hotel so he can "help you check out, Arthur. This is ridiculous."
Arthur argues with him the whole time, but Eames is persistent. Even when the bags are loaded into the trunk and they're on the familiar path to Eames' flat, Arthur feels the need to bring it up again.
"It's over five weeks!" he says for probably the sixth time.
"I have a guest room," Eames says calmly. "And you're likely to stay up until all hours if I don't stop you. This way is safer and better for all involved."
"I don't want to impose."
Eames smirks. "I have an idea of how you'll make it up to me."
Arthur huffs, feeling a bit scandalized. Eames likes his jokes, sure, but that's not even a little bit funny.
Eames frowns. "Not like that, pet. It may be the world's oldest profession, but I want you to be in my bed of your own desire, not from an obligation."
Arthur rolls his eyes. "There wouldn't be room for another person on that bed, with everything else currently residing there."
Eames laughs as they pull into a parking spot. "Funny you should say that..."
******
Eames has given him a "job". Not just any job, but a job as a maid, and he's written out the specifications and taped them to the refrigerator.
JOB: CLEAN MY FLAT
REQUIREMENTS:
CLEAN. DON'T GO CRAZY OR ANYTHING JUST WHATEVER MAKES YOU FEEL BETTER.
DO NOT THROW AWAY MY CLOTHES.
OR ANYTHING NON-PERISHABLE.
NO SUITS UNLESS FOR WORK / FASHION SHOWS.
HAVE A FANTASTIC ARSE.
PAYMENT:
FULL USE OF THE FOLLOWING:
- COFFEE POT (PLS DONT MESS WITH THE TEA DARLING YOU DONT DO IT RIGHT)
- GUEST ROOM
- BATHROOM FOR A REASONABLE NUMBER OF HOURS - IF YOU GO OVER WE'LL JUST HAVE TO SHARE
- DESK AND SURROUNDING AREA. IF IM MAKING TOO MUCH NOISE YOULL JUST HAVE TO SAY, DARLING, IM NOT A MIND READER
"You're joking," Arthur says, shooting Eames a dubious look. Eames just smiles back at him like he's waiting for Arthur to acknowledge his brilliance. "Eames, tell me you're joking."
"Think about it, Arthur. Tidying up helped you clear your head, and bonus for me, I can see my floor! Everyone benefits, you see."
******
And so that is how Arthur finds himself as Eames' maid, cleaning up his messes and lecturing him about coasters and proper organization. It's actually (surprisingly) not demeaning, and Eames does seem to listen when Arthur goes into one of his tirades.
After three weeks of carrying on like this, Arthur stretches out on Eames' couch and comments off-hand that his apartment is too big for one person.
"That's why I have you here, love," Eames says absently, fingers brushing across Arthur's neck as he walks by, focusing on the mail in his hands.
Arthur feels his face heating. The research portion of his job is more or less over, and the hotel almost definitely has their internet fixed by now. Eames' apartment is practically spotless. There is no reasonable excuse for Arthur to keep staying here. The list of his 'requirements' on the fridge has been mostly scratched off, but Arthur can't quite bring himself to leave.
"Mm, I really want to see this new Brad Pitt movie," Eames says from the kitchen. "What do you say we take in the 6 o'clock showing tomorrow night?"
Arthur attempts to protest, but Eames makes a very convincing argument regarding all the research he no longer has to do.
So Arthur finds himself sitting in the theater with Eames the next night, fighting over the popcorn and making occasional comments about the terrible dialogue.
As they walk back to the car, Arthur feels more relaxed than he has in weeks. After a moment's consideration, he says as much to Eames.
"Glad to hear it," Eames says, flashing him a soft smile as he unlocks the car. As soon as Arthur has fastened his seatbelt, Eames asks, "What do you say we get some dinner on the way back? There's a lovely seafood place just a few blocks away."
He says it just nonchalantly enough to make Arthur play it back in his mind. "Eames, either this joke has gone too far, or this is an actual date."
Eames looks back at him solemnly. "I realize we've done things a bit backwards. I had you picking up after me, then I asked you to move in, then I took you out on a proper date. But I thought maybe if I continued the pattern, I'd at least get that first kiss before all hope was lost." He backs it up with a hesitant smile that makes something in Arthur's chest tighten.
Arthur hums thoughtfully. "Too soon to tell, I think."
A full smile spreads slowly over Eames' face, as if he can't quite believe what he's hearing.
"I think you mentioned dinner?" Arthur prompts, and Eames turns the key in the engine.
"Only the best for you, darling."
******
The next week is a tense one, but Arthur enjoys every second of it. He lets his fingers linger over Eames' when he hands over the mail, he mills about the living room in nothing but a towel after his night-time showers, and every time Eames mentions food, Arthur purposely licks his lips.
And then one day in the fifth week of this job, the extractor and the architect on his team have a huge argument, and Arthur spends the last two hours of the day wishing he could just go home. When he realizes he's just called it home, he swallows thickly and thinks, oh.
He has a headache by the time he gets a cab back, and to top it off, Eames isn't there when he gets back. Who is he going to unload on now?
He needs to take a shower, but he finds himself stretching out on the couch instead. Wondering where Eames is, he pulls out his cell phone and considers texting him to find out. He should probably go change if he's going to wait around for Eames. But then he might not come back for a while. And...
Arthur jolts awake a little bit later to the sound of Eames' voice in the hallway. He sounds unhappy, and Arthur registers that it's pouring rain outside as Eames key slides into the lock.
Arthur scrambles up to get the door, knowing Eames will only curse more if he accidentally locks it when he means to unlock it. Eames flashes him a grateful look once he gets the door open, rushing inside out of the cold rain. He's absolutely drenched, pulling off his sopping coat even as he yells through the phone, "No, that is unacceptable, Robbie. I need to know exactly what it is he said. No. I'm not hanging up this phone until you give me the information I was promised."
Arthur follows the movement of the jacket as Eames removes it, waiting for him to drop it on the floor so he can go hang it somewhere to dry. But then to his surprise, Eames moves toward the bathroom and hangs it on a hook, exactly where Arthur would have put it. Arthur feels a smile edging onto his face, unbidden, even as Eames gets angrier at Robbie.
"Well then look again," Eames says through gritted teeth, and Arthur finds his feet carrying him over to Eames. Eames shoots Arthur a pained look as he gets closer and then glances away to continue lecturing Robbie. "Listen--"
He never gets to his next point, though, because Arthur moves into his space and fits their lips together, hands looping behind Eames' neck.
He pulls away after a moment, and Eames says breathily, "I'm gonna have to call you back." Arthur idly hears the cell phone landing on the couch cushions before Eames is wrapping himself around Arthur and kissing back, licking his way into Arthur's mouth. His wet clothes are possibly ruining one of Arthur's nicest dress shirts, but Arthur barely notices as he lavishes attention on Eames' gorgeous mouth, groaning as Eames pulls at his hips to bring their bodies flush together.
They break for air, both breathing raggedly, and Arthur's voice is rough when he says, "Welcome home."
Eames utters a noise filled with want, guiding Arthur back toward the couch as he moves in again. Arthur stops him before they can get that far, reluctantly saying, "Your clothes. The cushions."
Eames makes a disbelieving noise. "Sod the cushions," he says, voice sinfully low, and Arthur's hips stutter against his.
"We could--I mean, the clearer solution would be to get rid of the clothes," Arthur says quietly, tilting his head to suck on the skin just below Eames' jaw.
"Fuck yes," Eames moans into Arthur's ear, fingers already working at Arthur's buttons, and then his traitorous phone beeps from the couch. Eames tenses, and they both make twin despairing noises in response. "It's a really important call," Eames says shakily, eyes falling shut as he tilts his forehead against Arthur's. "Ten minutes?"
Arthur tilts his head up to press his lips against Eames' in another quick kiss. "By all means," he says, moving away. "Call the man back." His fingers work loose the last of the buttons, and he tosses the shirt aside as he nears the bathroom. "I guess I'll just have to take this shower by myself..."
Eames trips over his own feet in his haste to get between Arthur and the bathroom door. He's already got the phone to his ear, and he says, "Five minutes," just before Robbie picks up, stammering his apologies.
"Listen, Robbie, you've got four and a half minutes to make good on your promise, or you can consider yourself blacklisted."
Arthur could probably push past him to get through the door, but he decides to make the best of the present situation. He works loose the fastening of Eames' jeans, pulling the wet material down over Eames' legs slowly. Eames is surprisingly obliging, speaking a stern word to Robbie here and there, but he lifts his hands obediently when the time comes for Arthur to remove his shirt.
Robbie makes a triumphant noise and tells Eames what he wanted to hear with thirty seconds to spare. Eames makes an appreciative noise that was perhaps not directed to the phone and mumbles, "Consider your career saved."
Neither of them hear whether Robbie was grateful, relieved, or pissed off, because Eames tosses the phone aside the instant he finishes speaking, pulling Arthur's naked body against his.
"I think you said something about a shower?"
Arthur smiles.
******
JOB: CLEAN LIVE IN MY OUR FLAT
REQUIREMENTS:
CLEAN. DON'T GO CRAZY OR ANYTHING JUST WHATEVER MAKES YOU FEEL BETTER.
DO NOT THROW AWAY MY CLOTHES.
OR ANYTHING NON-PERISHABLE. (WITHOUT ASKING FIRST PLS)
NO SUITS UNLESS FOR WORK / FASHION SHOWS.
HAVE A FANTASTIC ARSE.
KISSING.
LOTS OF KISSING.
EVEN DURING BUSINESS HOURS / CALLS.
CLOTHING OPTIONAL.
PAYMENT:
FULL USE OF THE FOLLOWING:
- COFFEE POT (PLS DONT MESS WITH THE TEA DARLING YOU DONT DO IT RIGHT)
- GUEST ROOM
- BATHROOM FOR A REASONABLE NUMBER OF HOURS - IF YOU GO OVER WE'LL JUST HAVE TO SHARE
- DESK AND SURROUNDING AREA. IF IM MAKING TOO MUCH NOISE YOULL JUST HAVE TO SAY, DARLING, IM NOT A MIND READER DISTRACTIONS MAY HAPPEN
- EAMES' MOUTH
THE END
ETA: Now with a porny coda!
Fandom: Inception
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 4k
Summary: Arthur thinks Eames' flat is a mess. Eames has a solution for that.
Notes: For foxxcub's Kissing Meme. Thanks as always to reinventweather for the beta work.
It all starts when Arthur takes a job in London. Two days into the job, his hotel's internet goes out. They give him a sincere apology and a list of nearby locations with free wifi, but all of these places conveniently close for the night by 10 o'clock, which is simply unacceptable.
On day three, Arthur is frustrated and at least a solid day behind on his research, so he calls Eames.
"Arthur!" Eames says instantly, when most people would generally say 'hello'. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"
"Your flat in London. One, does it have internet connectivity, and two, can I use it for this purpose for the next six weeks?"
Eames hums happily. "One, yes, and two, by all means, darling. I'd love the company."
Arthur makes a noise that is completely dignified, thank you, and not pained at all. "You're in town?"
"Having grown up here and owned this flat for seven years, I would argue that you're the one that's 'in town.'"
"My hotel's internet went down," he explains. "I didn't mean to just invite myself over to where you're staying."
"No need to justify it to me. What I don't understand is why you're not already on your way over here. I know how you get if you can't get in your 20-hour workdays."
It's a gross exaggeration, but Arthur does need the help, so he doesn't argue. He manages to keep from arguing too much until Eames gives him the address, then he hangs up and gathers everything he needs.
******
"Thank you for this," Arthur says as soon as Eames opens the door. Eames gestures him in, offering to take his laptop bag, but Arthur simply ignores him as he comes in out of the cold. It is blissfully warm in Eames' flat, a welcome discovery since Arthur left his jacket back in his hotel room.
"There's a desk in the living room," Eames says, pointing out the direction. "Let me know if you need anything."
Eames' apartment is huge, but getting to the living room is fairly straightforward. Still, the first thing Arthur says as he leaves the entryway is, "This place is a mess."
He realizes this is perhaps not the best thing to tell your generous host, or whatever you call a temporary provider of internet, but it is Eames, and Arthur can't help himself. Eames chuckles, moving ahead of Arthur to clear off the desk. Arthur makes a horrified noise when "clearing off the desk" really means "pushing a stack of books and papers to the floor".
"Seriously, how can you live like this? How do you ever find anything?"
"I have a system," Eames assures him, pulling a book from the stack now on the floor and looking at it curiously. Arthur has a feeling his 'system' is more of a 'wait until something turns up and then use it' situation. "Feel free to push anything out of your way if need be. I'll be right in there," he says, pointing, "if you need something."
Arthur nods, grateful for the privacy, and silently notes that he won't be needing anything. Of course, a few minutes later he runs into a problem that Eames honestly should have foreseen. "Eames!" he shouts. "What's your internet password?"
No answer.
"Eames?" Arthur says again. Still no answer.
With a frustrated sigh, Arthur pushes back the desk chair and heads back to the room Eames had disappeared into.
The door is half-closed, so Arthur knocks as he pushes it the rest of the way open. It's Eames' bedroom, which is obvious by the fact that Eames is propped up on one side of his bed, headphones blaring and newly-rediscovered book in his hands, but that's the only way Arthur knows. There are clothes, books, and other items scattered everywhere. Arthur can't even see the floor.
"Oh," Eames says, discovering Arthur. He pushes his headphones down onto his neck and smiles back at him. "Yes?"
Arthur makes a whimpering noise. "How can you walk?"
"Well, dear, I put one foot in front of the other..."
"Your internet password," Arthur interrupts. He doesn't have time for these games. "I need it."
"Oh, of course. It's Gallifrey, darling. G-A-"
"L-L-I-F-R-E-Y," Arthur finishes, nodding. "All lowercase?"
Eames looks delighted. "Yes." He looks about to say something else, but Arthur moves quickly away from the door, mumbling his thanks. He figures it would take at least five minutes for Eames to wade his way out of the room anyway, and the effort will surely stop him.
He settles in at Eames' desk, pulling up what he's got so far to decide his next place to look. Before he knows it, a couple hours have passed and he's feeling hungry. He probably should have eaten something before coming over to Eames' place. He stands up and stretches, contemplating his options. If he's going out, he might as well go back to his hotel for that jacket. And what if the internet's back up when he gets there? He should take his laptop with him in that case, but then it would be so much trouble to set back up...
As he's contemplating all this, Eames comes out of his room and makes an appreciative noise at Arthur stretching. Arthur lowers his arms quickly and pulls at his shirt where it's ridden up.
"You're wearing a T-shirt and jeans," Eames says as if he's just noticed. "That's new."
Arthur rolls his eyes. "I don't wear suits all the time, Eames."
"Since when?"
"Since always. You've just never seen me after I've settled in for the day."
"Which you acknowledge is a shame," Eames says, nodding. "Better late than never, I suppose."
"I was just going for some dinner," Arthur says, ignoring Eames' implications and reaching for his wallet.
"What kind of host would I be if I made you go pick up your own food? No, we'll order take-away. I was just coming to ask you what you'd like."
He thrusts a menu into Arthur's hands, and at first all Arthur can think is "how did he find this in all that mess?" But then he focuses enough to pick a meal, then tells Eames which one he wants with a grateful smile.
He goes back to work in the meantime, and he's in the middle of a breakthrough when the food arrives. He really doesn't want to stop, so he's both surprised and relieved when Eames sets his food down on the side of the desk, not saying a word.
A headache starts to set in around midnight, then Arthur realizes oh, it's midnight. Eames is behind him, sitting on the couch watching a nature documentary at a low volume, and Arthur wheels around to talk to the back of his head. "Why didn't you tell me it was so late?"
Eames twists to look at Arthur. "'So late'? Arthur, it's barely midnight. I know you keep much later hours than this, and not for any of the fun reasons."
"I should head back," he insists, already rounding up his things. He's dreading the ride back in the cold, but hopefully it will help ease his headache. Eames appears next to his desk, stacking his folders neatly and handing them to Arthur. "Oh, so you do know how to be organized," Arthur says with a smirk.
"At least let me drive you," Eames says, and so Arthur soon finds himself wedged into the passenger seat of Eames' tiny Mini Cooper.
He sleeps fitfully that night, and when he meets up with his team the following morning, he feels like he has nothing to show for it, even though he's made new discoveries since yesterday.
With this frustration in mind, he heads straight to Eames' flat from the warehouse.
"You're back!" Eames greets him, smiling broadly.
"I see you haven't made any extra effort to clean up," Arthur says, breezing into the living room. It's not entirely true - Eames at least had the decency to throw away the food boxes, a fact for which Arthur is eternally grateful.
Arthur sets up everything just as he had it yesterday, opens up his laptop, and... has no idea where to go from here.
"How do you take your coffee?" Eames calls from the kitchen.
Arthur clicks around on some of his open tabs, hoping for inspiration. "Today? Black."
A few seconds later, Eames strolls in and hands Arthur a mug filled with fresh coffee that smells heavenly. "Oh god," Arthur says reverently, inhaling the scent. He takes a deep gulp of it and hums contentedly. "Eames, you are my favorite person today."
"Am I?" Eames says, delighted. "I'll have to note that for the future."
Eames dutifully leaves him alone after that, but after ten minutes of clicking around nothing, Arthur finally gives in to the impulse to take a break. He brings his coffee into Eames' room and just starts talking. Eames talks right back, so he clearly doesn't have a problem with it, and Arthur doesn't realize he's started cleaning up the room until Eames calls him on it.
"Well I hardly have a place to sit. I'm just trying to make this place slightly accommodating."
"Then by all means, continue," Eames says, amused. After a pause, he adds, "I see you're back to the monkey suit today."
"I came straight from work," Arthur says, creating a pile of clothes. If Eames doesn't have a laundry basket, he'll just have to make do. He can carry them out to the dumpster if Eames won't agree to get them washed.
"You know, you could just stay here."
Arthur sighs, saying, "No thank you." It's hard enough feeling like he owes Eames anything now, but at least it's just the fucking internet. Staying here would make it even worse, and Eames' jokes would no doubt escalate. Arthur's not sure he can handle the false innuendo when he's just woken up in the morning.
Eames, surprisingly, lets it go. He asks Arthur about the job he's on, and Arthur rambles on about it nonchalantly until, suddenly, something Eames says gives Arthur an idea.
Eames' laugh carries after him as he rushes back to his computer, and about five minutes later, his coffee cup returns to him, along with Eames hand, warm on his shoulder.
Arthur works and works, uncovering more and more relevant information. At some point, Eames sets food down next to him, and Arthur eats it without paying much attention.
"Arthur," Eames whispers, later, coming up behind him.
"I know, Eames, I'll clear out of here in a bit."
"Arthur, it's two in the morning," Eames says quietly.
"Shit," Arthur says succinctly. "You should have said something earlier. I didn't--"
"You don't have to go," Eames interrupts. "I just thought, if you wanted to pick up some clothes for tomorrow, we'd best go now."
Arthur shakes his head, triple-checking that he's saved his most recent document before shutting off his computer. "No, I'll go. I can call a cab, you don't have to drive me."
Eames looks slightly disappointed, but Arthur's too busy getting his stuff together to give it much thought. "Arthur, you really must give me more credit than that."
******
The next day, when everything is wrapped up with his team, Arthur comes outside to discover Eames waiting for him outside the warehouse. Eames takes him back to the hotel so he can "help you check out, Arthur. This is ridiculous."
Arthur argues with him the whole time, but Eames is persistent. Even when the bags are loaded into the trunk and they're on the familiar path to Eames' flat, Arthur feels the need to bring it up again.
"It's over five weeks!" he says for probably the sixth time.
"I have a guest room," Eames says calmly. "And you're likely to stay up until all hours if I don't stop you. This way is safer and better for all involved."
"I don't want to impose."
Eames smirks. "I have an idea of how you'll make it up to me."
Arthur huffs, feeling a bit scandalized. Eames likes his jokes, sure, but that's not even a little bit funny.
Eames frowns. "Not like that, pet. It may be the world's oldest profession, but I want you to be in my bed of your own desire, not from an obligation."
Arthur rolls his eyes. "There wouldn't be room for another person on that bed, with everything else currently residing there."
Eames laughs as they pull into a parking spot. "Funny you should say that..."
******
Eames has given him a "job". Not just any job, but a job as a maid, and he's written out the specifications and taped them to the refrigerator.
JOB: CLEAN MY FLAT
REQUIREMENTS:
CLEAN. DON'T GO CRAZY OR ANYTHING JUST WHATEVER MAKES YOU FEEL BETTER.
DO NOT THROW AWAY MY CLOTHES.
OR ANYTHING NON-PERISHABLE.
NO SUITS UNLESS FOR WORK / FASHION SHOWS.
HAVE A FANTASTIC ARSE.
PAYMENT:
FULL USE OF THE FOLLOWING:
- COFFEE POT (PLS DONT MESS WITH THE TEA DARLING YOU DONT DO IT RIGHT)
- GUEST ROOM
- BATHROOM FOR A REASONABLE NUMBER OF HOURS - IF YOU GO OVER WE'LL JUST HAVE TO SHARE
- DESK AND SURROUNDING AREA. IF IM MAKING TOO MUCH NOISE YOULL JUST HAVE TO SAY, DARLING, IM NOT A MIND READER
"You're joking," Arthur says, shooting Eames a dubious look. Eames just smiles back at him like he's waiting for Arthur to acknowledge his brilliance. "Eames, tell me you're joking."
"Think about it, Arthur. Tidying up helped you clear your head, and bonus for me, I can see my floor! Everyone benefits, you see."
******
And so that is how Arthur finds himself as Eames' maid, cleaning up his messes and lecturing him about coasters and proper organization. It's actually (surprisingly) not demeaning, and Eames does seem to listen when Arthur goes into one of his tirades.
After three weeks of carrying on like this, Arthur stretches out on Eames' couch and comments off-hand that his apartment is too big for one person.
"That's why I have you here, love," Eames says absently, fingers brushing across Arthur's neck as he walks by, focusing on the mail in his hands.
Arthur feels his face heating. The research portion of his job is more or less over, and the hotel almost definitely has their internet fixed by now. Eames' apartment is practically spotless. There is no reasonable excuse for Arthur to keep staying here. The list of his 'requirements' on the fridge has been mostly scratched off, but Arthur can't quite bring himself to leave.
"Mm, I really want to see this new Brad Pitt movie," Eames says from the kitchen. "What do you say we take in the 6 o'clock showing tomorrow night?"
Arthur attempts to protest, but Eames makes a very convincing argument regarding all the research he no longer has to do.
So Arthur finds himself sitting in the theater with Eames the next night, fighting over the popcorn and making occasional comments about the terrible dialogue.
As they walk back to the car, Arthur feels more relaxed than he has in weeks. After a moment's consideration, he says as much to Eames.
"Glad to hear it," Eames says, flashing him a soft smile as he unlocks the car. As soon as Arthur has fastened his seatbelt, Eames asks, "What do you say we get some dinner on the way back? There's a lovely seafood place just a few blocks away."
He says it just nonchalantly enough to make Arthur play it back in his mind. "Eames, either this joke has gone too far, or this is an actual date."
Eames looks back at him solemnly. "I realize we've done things a bit backwards. I had you picking up after me, then I asked you to move in, then I took you out on a proper date. But I thought maybe if I continued the pattern, I'd at least get that first kiss before all hope was lost." He backs it up with a hesitant smile that makes something in Arthur's chest tighten.
Arthur hums thoughtfully. "Too soon to tell, I think."
A full smile spreads slowly over Eames' face, as if he can't quite believe what he's hearing.
"I think you mentioned dinner?" Arthur prompts, and Eames turns the key in the engine.
"Only the best for you, darling."
******
The next week is a tense one, but Arthur enjoys every second of it. He lets his fingers linger over Eames' when he hands over the mail, he mills about the living room in nothing but a towel after his night-time showers, and every time Eames mentions food, Arthur purposely licks his lips.
And then one day in the fifth week of this job, the extractor and the architect on his team have a huge argument, and Arthur spends the last two hours of the day wishing he could just go home. When he realizes he's just called it home, he swallows thickly and thinks, oh.
He has a headache by the time he gets a cab back, and to top it off, Eames isn't there when he gets back. Who is he going to unload on now?
He needs to take a shower, but he finds himself stretching out on the couch instead. Wondering where Eames is, he pulls out his cell phone and considers texting him to find out. He should probably go change if he's going to wait around for Eames. But then he might not come back for a while. And...
Arthur jolts awake a little bit later to the sound of Eames' voice in the hallway. He sounds unhappy, and Arthur registers that it's pouring rain outside as Eames key slides into the lock.
Arthur scrambles up to get the door, knowing Eames will only curse more if he accidentally locks it when he means to unlock it. Eames flashes him a grateful look once he gets the door open, rushing inside out of the cold rain. He's absolutely drenched, pulling off his sopping coat even as he yells through the phone, "No, that is unacceptable, Robbie. I need to know exactly what it is he said. No. I'm not hanging up this phone until you give me the information I was promised."
Arthur follows the movement of the jacket as Eames removes it, waiting for him to drop it on the floor so he can go hang it somewhere to dry. But then to his surprise, Eames moves toward the bathroom and hangs it on a hook, exactly where Arthur would have put it. Arthur feels a smile edging onto his face, unbidden, even as Eames gets angrier at Robbie.
"Well then look again," Eames says through gritted teeth, and Arthur finds his feet carrying him over to Eames. Eames shoots Arthur a pained look as he gets closer and then glances away to continue lecturing Robbie. "Listen--"
He never gets to his next point, though, because Arthur moves into his space and fits their lips together, hands looping behind Eames' neck.
He pulls away after a moment, and Eames says breathily, "I'm gonna have to call you back." Arthur idly hears the cell phone landing on the couch cushions before Eames is wrapping himself around Arthur and kissing back, licking his way into Arthur's mouth. His wet clothes are possibly ruining one of Arthur's nicest dress shirts, but Arthur barely notices as he lavishes attention on Eames' gorgeous mouth, groaning as Eames pulls at his hips to bring their bodies flush together.
They break for air, both breathing raggedly, and Arthur's voice is rough when he says, "Welcome home."
Eames utters a noise filled with want, guiding Arthur back toward the couch as he moves in again. Arthur stops him before they can get that far, reluctantly saying, "Your clothes. The cushions."
Eames makes a disbelieving noise. "Sod the cushions," he says, voice sinfully low, and Arthur's hips stutter against his.
"We could--I mean, the clearer solution would be to get rid of the clothes," Arthur says quietly, tilting his head to suck on the skin just below Eames' jaw.
"Fuck yes," Eames moans into Arthur's ear, fingers already working at Arthur's buttons, and then his traitorous phone beeps from the couch. Eames tenses, and they both make twin despairing noises in response. "It's a really important call," Eames says shakily, eyes falling shut as he tilts his forehead against Arthur's. "Ten minutes?"
Arthur tilts his head up to press his lips against Eames' in another quick kiss. "By all means," he says, moving away. "Call the man back." His fingers work loose the last of the buttons, and he tosses the shirt aside as he nears the bathroom. "I guess I'll just have to take this shower by myself..."
Eames trips over his own feet in his haste to get between Arthur and the bathroom door. He's already got the phone to his ear, and he says, "Five minutes," just before Robbie picks up, stammering his apologies.
"Listen, Robbie, you've got four and a half minutes to make good on your promise, or you can consider yourself blacklisted."
Arthur could probably push past him to get through the door, but he decides to make the best of the present situation. He works loose the fastening of Eames' jeans, pulling the wet material down over Eames' legs slowly. Eames is surprisingly obliging, speaking a stern word to Robbie here and there, but he lifts his hands obediently when the time comes for Arthur to remove his shirt.
Robbie makes a triumphant noise and tells Eames what he wanted to hear with thirty seconds to spare. Eames makes an appreciative noise that was perhaps not directed to the phone and mumbles, "Consider your career saved."
Neither of them hear whether Robbie was grateful, relieved, or pissed off, because Eames tosses the phone aside the instant he finishes speaking, pulling Arthur's naked body against his.
"I think you said something about a shower?"
Arthur smiles.
******
JOB: CLEAN LIVE IN MY OUR FLAT
REQUIREMENTS:
CLEAN. DON'T GO CRAZY OR ANYTHING JUST WHATEVER MAKES YOU FEEL BETTER.
DO NOT THROW AWAY MY CLOTHES.
OR ANYTHING NON-PERISHABLE. (WITHOUT ASKING FIRST PLS)
NO SUITS UNLESS FOR WORK / FASHION SHOWS.
HAVE A FANTASTIC ARSE.
KISSING.
LOTS OF KISSING.
EVEN DURING BUSINESS HOURS / CALLS.
CLOTHING OPTIONAL.
PAYMENT:
FULL USE OF THE FOLLOWING:
- COFFEE POT (PLS DONT MESS WITH THE TEA DARLING YOU DONT DO IT RIGHT)
- GUEST ROOM
- BATHROOM FOR A REASONABLE NUMBER OF HOURS - IF YOU GO OVER WE'LL JUST HAVE TO SHARE
- DESK AND SURROUNDING AREA. IF IM MAKING TOO MUCH NOISE YOULL JUST HAVE TO SAY, DARLING, IM NOT A MIND READER DISTRACTIONS MAY HAPPEN
- EAMES' MOUTH
THE END
ETA: Now with a porny coda!