artfulforger | Back on Track: Post Akward Mornings thread

After Arthur left Eames' hotel room, he had a twenty minute walk to his flat. Hindsight was a beautiful thing as the day was bound to be a sunny one and as such, his eyes and headache were protesting.

On his way to his place, he stopped by the corner bakery for a fresh croissant and a much needed cup of coffee. It was with a thankful sigh that he took a sip of it. Before he realized it, a small smile had crossed his lips, remembering how Eames had ordered up coffee for them. It probably didn't help matters any that he could still feel Eames' lips on his.

He made it home with barely any problem and sighed when he noticed the mess he had left behind the night before. He took the time putting the bottle of tequila away and the left over food before he texted Eames and left. He was truly lucky that he had remembered his keys and wallet. Regardless, Arthur took the time to put away the bottle of tequila and leftover food - cleaning up before he hit the shower.

It was no surprise to anyone that hangover or no hangover, Arthur was still at the warehouse before anyone else. Whether he was actually working was another thing. He was leaning on his desk with his head in his hand when Eames opened the door and walked in singing. He winced at the offkey pitch - or perhaps it was the lyrics - before looking over at him. A reluctant smile crossed his lips when he spotted the coffee and pastry bag.

He cleared his throat. "Christ, Eames -- Lady Gaga?"

Smirking, he set the pastry box down on the main table, ignoring the look he got from Cobb as he came through and dropped one of the coffees down before Arthur.

"So you don't steal mine," he said, as if that was a problem. "And I am taking requests if you have one. Silence is not an option," he added quickly.

Still that irritating smile designed to be smarmy and cocky as he moved to pick up a paper off Arthur's desk. No idea what it was, just something to play off their usual games.

Arthur glanced at the coffee he had dropped off before he looked at Eames with a small thankful smile - it was barely there but he was sure Eames would pick up on it. "You have me mixed up with you, Mr. Eames," he said but picked up the much needed coffee and took a sip of it.

He hummed and sat the cup down. "Shame, I'm pretty sure Silence is my number one request. If that doesn't do it for you - what about Glen Miller's, In the Mood?" Now, he was being a smartass.

Arthur watched as he lifted a piece of paper off of his desk which was mainly just Arthur's notes to himself through the course of the morning -- like why was Cobb so loud.

"And wouldn't you look delightful in my wardrobe,' he said with a laugh, glancing over the sheet and looking to Arthur. He caught the smile, the way he took a drink. He to looked over the paper and then laughed, nearly choking on his own coffee.

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, glancing at Cobb and then at the list again, he dropped his gaze to Arthur as he dropped the paper. "Are you? In the mood, pet?"

Arthur tried not to allow Eames' words to go to his head but he'd be lying if it didn't lodge itself in his mind. "It would also look delightful in the far depths of any closet -- away from the sun and any other clashing patterns," he quipped with a wry little grin.

As per usual - it was their standard banter that Yusuf and Ariadne walked in on. He turned to look at Eames with only the barest hint of concern and also amusement - knowing he had probably just read his note about Cobb.

He raised his eyebrows. "You'd have to be more specific, Mr. Eames. In the mood for what? Big band? Work?"

"So we're already there, are we? Assaulting my wardrobe because it has personality and not made to match Bond's like yours is," he asked, glancing up as the others came in. He winked at that look, shaking his head as he leaned against the corner of the desk, sipping his coffee.

"Maybe I'm asking if you're in the mood for a lovin' daddy with beautiful eyes and lips you'd like to try on for size," he asked, nearly singing the words. Now he was pushing his luck and he knew it. Not that Eames could help himself. Not in the least.

"You act as though my comments about your wardrobe are something new. If I remember correctly, my first comment to you, when we first met, was, 'why would anyone wear a shirt with a purple skull on it with those slacks?'" Arthur smirked and took a sip of his coffee.

Okay, it hadn't been nearly that bad and he knew it. He could feel the curiosity radiating off of Ariadne. Yusuf went about his business as he did.

He gave Eames a slow blink and bit his tongue. He did not just call himself a lovin' daddy -- did he? "Go to work, Mr. Eames," he said. But, before he could resist, he leaned in closer to Eames and dropped his voice enough to say, "find me one and we can talk." Afterward, he sat up straight and sent him a small smirk. Arthur was hungover and Eames, was of course, being Eames.

"It wasn't purple. It was periwinkle," he pointed out. "And why is just to annoy you." He paused, considering. "What happened to that shirt? Last I saw it was on the Moroccan j..." He paused, looking at Arthur. "You burned it, didn't you?"

He turned to look at Ariadne. "Can imagine the nerve of him," he asked, shaking his head. She laughed and moved over to her work. Eames too it to lean over towards Arthur, deadly serious as he met his gaze. "Standing in front of you, Kitten."

Winking, he turned away and moved get his paperwork gathered up.

"Purple, periwinkle -- they're all shades of purple," Arthur said, and gave Eames his most unimpressed look. Course, there was amusement there as well if one looked. He shrugged his shoulders. "Haven't the slightest clue." He paused. "It might have ended up in the pile labeled 'to burn' though." After it was used to disinfect tables and work spaces.

Despite himself, Arthur rolled his eyes when Eames commented to Ariadne and felt a small smile tug on his lips. "It goes to show, you shouldn't leave your clothing just laying around for anyone to find," he said, giving Eames a look.

He took a sip of his coffee and was thankful, in hindsight, that he had swallowed it before Eames opened his mouth again. Arthur's hand tightened on the cup. Whether or not Eames was serious -- there was something in the back of Arthur's mind that lit up. He cleared his throat softly.

"You're full of shit," he said. Eames couldn't be serious. Right?

And why was he even thinking so much about it?

At first Eames said nothing, working on the stack of papers before him. He sorted a few things out as he looked up at Arthur. "It was in my suitcase. You just couldn't stand that I got more attention than you do in your Saville Row, paid too much for it, still doesn't fit right and skinny ties are so out suits," he said, running it all together like one word.

Not another word though he picked up his phone, thumbs moving over the keyboard. A moment later Arthur's phone would signal a message.

full of mny things. that not 1 never thout abot callin me daddy? not even nao?

Arthur was silent for a minute as he finished scanning the document sitting in front of him. "If by more attention, you mean you had more strange and amused looks sent your way than I ever do, then yes. I was very upset that I didn't and don't garner the attention that you do," Arthur said dryly. "I get plenty of looks in my suits, thank you. I pay to have them fit just right - which you have probably have noticed from time to time yourself."

It took a minute or two before he noticed the indicator light on his phone flashing. He glanced over at Eames before he picked it up and read over the message. Despite himself, he felt a rush and a surge of heat go through him. What the hell.

No.

Of course I haven't.

And even if I am, you would be to blame since you've just asked.

It was probably a little too defensive considering if he hadn't been thinking about it -- hadn't been considering it, it wouldn't have been a big deal. Right?

Eames would probably catch that too, Arthur was sure. The man was very observant.

Eames looked up, papers in his hand. He stared at Arthur for a long moment before he laughed. "Think that I've been watching you, do you," he asked, shaking his head. He had to play the game but there was an edge missing, and he worried others would see that. Or that Arthur wouldn't. Either way, he couldn't let down the facade now.

Picking up his phone he toyed with it, and then set it down, doing some work before he pinged back.

so im the only one thinking of u sittin on my lap?

Truth be told, he hadn't exactly intended to say that outloud but it had happened, as so many things did when he felt the way he did. However, the coffee was certainly helping him. Arthur resolutely didn't meet Eames' eyes but he could hear, or not hear as the case was, the usual edge in his voice. He took a sip of his coffee and looked at him again, a hint of a smile on his lips. "Well, you were the one that mentioned how they don't fit right."

Arthur glanced at the message on his phone and could feel another rush of heat slide through his body. He sat it down. It was surprising him more than it should that no -- Eames was not the only one thinking it.

But he couldn't just say that to him, could he?

Had he answered right then, his fingers might have typed out 'no' because Eames wasn't the only one thinking it.

Eventually, he responded back.

Yes.

The only tall tale signs that he was lying or talking out of his ass was the redness at the tip of his ears and definitely not meeting Eames' eyes. And were his hands shaking? Just the imagination playing tricks.

Eames snorted, picking up a pad of paper and writing. He was taking his time, mostly because he had to make sure he could stand up. At the moment, that wasn't going to happen. Not with how damn hard he was thinking about just that. Arthur stripped down, sitting on his lap while Eames was full dressed and sliding his calloused hands over that sleek body.

Thoughts like that wasn't going to help and so he focused on the papers before him, what he was writing out on the pad. Handwriting neat and small, almost like typed print as he put things down as he wanted. When it was just right, he rose and dropped the pad down in front of Arthur.

"That's a bill for my shirt."

Except it wasn't. It was a note.

Darling,

If I'm the only one thinking about putting you over my knee, then you honestly don't have an imagination and I always thought that was you hiding the truth.

Arthur gave all pretense of returning to his work after sending that text message. He figured that was the end of it after receiving nothing in response from Eames other than his snort.

Underneath the calm facade, however, he was a complete mess and so fucking hard underneath his desk. Despite himself, he couldn't help but imagine himself, naked, sitting on Eames' fully dressed lap and what it would feel like to have his hands sliding over his body - teasing, tempting, spanking...

That was not helping this situation.

Arthur quickly read over the note dropped in front of him and felt his grip on his pen tighten and his pulse speed up. He breathed in and looked up at Eames, having not even heard him move. "You'll have it by the end of the job."

To everyone looking in - it would seem he was talking about the payment for the faux-bill but to Eames -- well, he was bound to take it however he liked. He shifted in his seat a little - this was not helping his erection problem.

Despite himself, all Eames wanted to do was watch Arthur. He wanted to see if his adam's apple bobbed with the way he swallowed at what was written. Maybe he could see if his pupils blew up with lust, going wide and dark until he could hardly see anything but those dark pools that showed how excited he might be. Of course, if he saw the other side of the coin, that he truly wasn't flirting and playing but wasn't interested, Eames wasn't sure what he would do. Instead he chose not to watch.

Yet those words left him nearly panting. Shifting to adjust his trousers, licking his lips as he shifted papers from one side of his desk to the other. Then he moved them back to the other side. He wasn't so much as doing work as doing anything to try and not get up and drag Arthur to the janitor's closet and have him like he was aching to do.

"Yeah well... That's a long way off," he said, voice thick and husky with desire and hoping it sounded more like annoyance.

Arthur noticed that Eames wouldn't meet his gaze but noticed when Eames shifted and licked his lips (Arthur really wanted to lick those lips himself) and needlessly shifted his papers around his desk.

He shifted to adjust his slacks and allowed the conversation stand for the time being. However, it wasn't too long until Arthur picked up his phones and debated against sending anything. Ultimately he fired off a quick message to Eames' phone.

Lets hope it goes by quick then.

Because after Inception -- they could talk...explore, if they wanted.

In truth Eames figured Arthur was done with the game, focusing on work as he was wont to do. Not that he could blame him, or wouldn't find it as attractive as he did about so much of Arthur. In the end, it was who he was and what he did. Work came first and was likely as much apart of his soul and blood as anything else.

Then he noticed his phone vibrating. For a long time he ignored it, gut tightening at the very sound and realizing it was most likely from Arthur. Finally giving in, he read the message and then took his time sending back his own.

howevr long it takes worth the wait

Arthur didn't pick up his phone too quickly, allowed it to sit there for a little while before he finally picked it up and read over the message. A hint of a smile crossed over his lips before he sat it down. Leaving it stand there.

By noon, he was thankfully able to concentrate again - was able to focus and put his all into his work. He had snacked on one of the pastries that Eames had brought along with the coffee and it had done the trick.

Later that evening, once Ariadne had gone off for something to eat for dinner and Yusuf had stepped out for a break - Arthur went over with some files to Cobb's desk for a small meeting with the extractor. He went over what he had found out from his research and some general ideas of what they could do and how. At the end of it, Arthur laid it out for Cobb -- at the end of the job, success or failure, Arthur was done with Cobb. He'd send cards to the kids, he'd visit but he'd never work with the man again under any circumstances. Eames was done as well. It wasn't only because of Eames that he was doing this -- he was doing this for himself. Two years of this and Arthur was at his literal wits end with the nearly deranged extractor.

Until then though, they would work amicably together, they would be professional as ever and go about their business. Cobb took it nearly as well as Arthur figured he would. The man was digging himself an early grave if you asked him and sooner or later, it was going to catch up with him. When he left Cobb's desk, he spared a look at Eames and gave him a faint nod before returning to his desk. He'd put in a few extra hours to make up for the slow start of the day.

In the end, Eames had worked. Not because he wanted to particularly but because work kept his mind busy and keep him focused on the job. And ending the job.

So he'd kept his attention on what needed to be settled. He worked through what details he'd need for any forges, what he would have to memorize, and planned out his course of action to get those details. Each time he observed someone he learned a lot. He'd also learn what it was he didn't know and would need to work hard to pick up.

Movement caught his eye, realizing Arthur was going to see Cobb. He hadn't said a word, hadn't looked up. Not until Arthur was making his way back to his desk. Only then did he look up, catching that look. He nodded and began to gather his notes neatly.

Moving easily to his feet, he crossed to Arthur's desk.

"You working through dinner or actually going to act like a human with a life," he asked, sounding as he always did though he suspected Arthur might know better.

And, Arthur did know better.

He looked up at him as he gathered his notes together, thinking he might work more from home instead of staying around the warehouse. They weren't scheduled for any team practice runs until later in the week and tomorrow afternoon that he would work with Ariadne about his level. He'd still be able to get some work done on the sofa if he wanted.

"I thought about ordering something in or picking up something on the way home." After all, massive amounts of coffee, a pastry and a small sandwich from the corner cafe wasn't going to do it. Somewhere in that statement however was a question; did Eames want to go grab something to eat with him? He didn't expect Eames to pick up on it but if he did - the company wouldn't be too bad.

Eames nodded at that, seeming to consider it. "I had a couple of questions for you, but seriously if I don't eat soon, I'm going to pass out. Willing to discuss them with me over dinner," he asked, arching a brow. "You can tax it as a working lunch," he teased, wondering then if Arthur had found a way to legitimize it all for taxes.

Of course he had found a way to legitimize it all for tax purposes. He was good at what he did after all. Arthur nodded and stood from his desk, gathering his things together. "We can discuss it over a working dinner. Are you ready to go?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

He nodded, moving to grab a manilla envelope full of papers. "If you'd said no, I was going back to my room," he admitted with a smirk, though nearly purring that last word.

"Well -- I imagine you would wind up in your room either way," Arthur mused, giving him an amused look. As Eames grabbed an envelope, Arthur put a few file folders into his messenger bag with his laptop and charger. He got the gist of what Eames was saying and not saying however.

A minute or two later, they were walking out of the warehouse. "What are you in the mood for?" he asked.

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