The couch was the least of Eames' worries. He had an arm full of panting, beautiful, spent Arthur, and after all he'd been through in the last two days, this was all that mattered. The job, Fischer, Saito... it all could go to hell in that moment.

Which, that very thought, scared the hell out of him.

"So why can't I hold you like this while working," he teased suddenly.