1. merry chasetriedinceptionAugust 23 2011, 04:24:01 UTC
For all he favored flash and show, Eames could be surprisingly demure when he wanted to be.
And Arthur; he'd been in Arthur's mind, they had shared dreams together. They had fought and fucked and left and come back together again. They had clawed to and away from each other and ended up together anyway.
So, as Arthur was due back from a job in Japan, Eames was busying himself with cooking, in order to not think about the simple platinum ring he had tucked away in his pants.
Arthur was actually coming back early, already having texted Eames the other day he'd be back home earlier than he had originally planned.
After the last job, he just wanted to return home and be able to rest without having to worry about missing the kick or getting up early enough to meet with a contact (or try to catch the right trains so he wouldn't end up sleeping in a capsule hotel - they weren't bad, per say, but for someone his height, they weren't exactly comfortable, either).
So, when he landed and managed to hail a cab, he took that opportunity to rest his eyes on the ride home. His was looking forward to seeing Eames again, of course, but the last thing on his mind was their relationship going to a whole other level.
By the time he was turning the key in the lock the sun had already gone down and the night life of the city was picking up. But Arthur wanted nothing more than to eat and go to sleep (hopefully Eames wouldn't take that personally).
At such a greeting, Arthur couldn't help but smile into the other's cheek, pressing his own kiss back and both arms wrapping around Eames' shoulders, luggage forgotten on the floor and door kicked close with the foot of his heel.
Closing his eyes, breathing in his lover, squeezing the other back, was all Arthur's silent way of saying he was glad to be back home.
Although he was finding himself so comfortable in Eames' embrace, leaning against his solid form, that he was possibly at risk of dosing off right then...
Feeling the way Arthur leaned into him and breathed, Eames could tell he was exhausted.
He jostled Arthur gently. "Hey hey, no falling asleep until you've at least eaten something. I know how you eat when I'm not around," he said accusingly, even as he raised a hand to stroke over Arthur's head.
Arthur made a face into Eames' neck - also making a muffled indignant noise into said neck - before slowly pulling away, voice more tired than sharp or grumpy, "Oh, hush. I eat just fine when you aren't around."
And yes, a bowl of cereal or egg-rolls in the microwave constituted as a "meal" to Arthur -- even if Eames always felt inclined to argue against that.
He then picked his luggage back up, having left Eames' embrace and loosening his tie as he walked back to their bedroom. Over his shoulder, "But thank you for cooking." Arthur always felt he should say that (just so the other man knows that it isn't just "expected" as much as it is appreciated every time he does it).
"Fine, not well or healthy," Eames called after Arthur, a fond smile on his face as he turned around to continue cooking the rue for the pasta formaggio.
Walking back into the kitchen after he set his luggage down in their bedroom and removing his jacket (ignoring the bed as that would be too tempting at this point), "Yeah and your love of bacon is not "well" or "healthy", either."
"Moderation, darling. I don't try to survive a job off bacon," Eames protested, still unwilling to give the fat-laden food item up (despite even Arthur's considerable threats and bribery).
"I hope you have room for good food in that junk belly of yours," he calls after a moment.
The point man snorts as he comes up behind Eames (still exercising his ability to move rather silently like when he was younger) and rests his chin on the other's left shoulder, looking at the food he is cooking while his arms slip loosely around the forger's waist.
"If you want to talk about "moderation" who's to say my eating habits aren't just that? Simply eating in moderation."
Adding, with a nip to the other's neck, "And banana in cereal is not "junk". Your greasy-ass bacon, however, is."
Eames relaxes back into Arthur's hold, though he doesn't look away from what he's cooking, especially since it's nearly done. He's made the pasta formaggio, along with some sauteed vegetables, eschewing meat for this meal for the moment. He reaches to grab some seasonings for the pasta.
"One good meal on a job does not 'moderation' make," he says, making a small pleased noise at the nip, turning his head to give his own gentle bite to Arthur's mouth. Turning back to the food, "And no, still not giving up bacon. I'm not even five years to forty yet."
Giving one more nip to the other's neck before moving away, "Spam would be better for you."
He then started setting the table like he normally did when Eames cooked them dinner (feeling he could at least do that since he wasn't much help in the kitchen itself).
"Spam is just as bad for me as bacon is, don't front me about that."
As interesting as having his neck nibbled is, Eames stays focused on his food. The banter is helping distract him from his ultimate plan, thankfully, keeping him from worrying about it too much.
"Thank you," he calls after a moment when he hears the clink of plates and silverware.
Arthur nods with a hum at the "thank you" before walking past Eames to get the glasses, poking him in the side (and in that spot that makes him make that embarrassing noise) with his index finger, "Spam is made of the leaner parts of ham and thus better for you."
The point man, at that moment, was focused on three things: setting the table, proving his point to Eames (that he was right), and staying awake long enough to eat what his lover had been standing up cooking just for them.
If Eames had anything else planned out, Arthur was not aware of it in the slightest.
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And Arthur; he'd been in Arthur's mind, they had shared dreams together. They had fought and fucked and left and come back together again. They had clawed to and away from each other and ended up together anyway.
So, as Arthur was due back from a job in Japan, Eames was busying himself with cooking, in order to not think about the simple platinum ring he had tucked away in his pants.
Reply
After the last job, he just wanted to return home and be able to rest without having to worry about missing the kick or getting up early enough to meet with a contact (or try to catch the right trains so he wouldn't end up sleeping in a capsule hotel - they weren't bad, per say, but for someone his height, they weren't exactly comfortable, either).
So, when he landed and managed to hail a cab, he took that opportunity to rest his eyes on the ride home. His was looking forward to seeing Eames again, of course, but the last thing on his mind was their relationship going to a whole other level.
By the time he was turning the key in the lock the sun had already gone down and the night life of the city was picking up. But Arthur wanted nothing more than to eat and go to sleep (hopefully Eames wouldn't take that personally).
Reply
As soon as it was open he moved over to greet him, a wide smile on his face.
Welcome home," he said earnestly, catching Arthur up in a hug, pressing a kiss to his cheek.
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Closing his eyes, breathing in his lover, squeezing the other back, was all Arthur's silent way of saying he was glad to be back home.
Although he was finding himself so comfortable in Eames' embrace, leaning against his solid form, that he was possibly at risk of dosing off right then...
Reply
He jostled Arthur gently. "Hey hey, no falling asleep until you've at least eaten something. I know how you eat when I'm not around," he said accusingly, even as he raised a hand to stroke over Arthur's head.
Reply
And yes, a bowl of cereal or egg-rolls in the microwave constituted as a "meal" to Arthur -- even if Eames always felt inclined to argue against that.
He then picked his luggage back up, having left Eames' embrace and loosening his tie as he walked back to their bedroom. Over his shoulder, "But thank you for cooking." Arthur always felt he should say that (just so the other man knows that it isn't just "expected" as much as it is appreciated every time he does it).
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"I hope you have room for good food in that junk belly of yours," he calls after a moment.
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"If you want to talk about "moderation" who's to say my eating habits aren't just that? Simply eating in moderation."
Adding, with a nip to the other's neck, "And banana in cereal is not "junk". Your greasy-ass bacon, however, is."
Reply
"One good meal on a job does not 'moderation' make," he says, making a small pleased noise at the nip, turning his head to give his own gentle bite to Arthur's mouth. Turning back to the food, "And no, still not giving up bacon. I'm not even five years to forty yet."
Reply
He then started setting the table like he normally did when Eames cooked them dinner (feeling he could at least do that since he wasn't much help in the kitchen itself).
Reply
As interesting as having his neck nibbled is, Eames stays focused on his food. The banter is helping distract him from his ultimate plan, thankfully, keeping him from worrying about it too much.
"Thank you," he calls after a moment when he hears the clink of plates and silverware.
Reply
The point man, at that moment, was focused on three things: setting the table, proving his point to Eames (that he was right), and staying awake long enough to eat what his lover had been standing up cooking just for them.
If Eames had anything else planned out, Arthur was not aware of it in the slightest.
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God, he hoped Arthur would say yes. But it wasn't time to ask the question.
"Dinner's done," he elaborated.
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