"You have taken care of my ass," Arthur admitted with a chuckle and rest his said ass on Eames' knees, making a soft sound in response. He wasn't sure how or why this was so easy - why this felt so natural after being so antagonistic toward each other for so long.

"A little bit before Morocco," he admitted and looked at him. "It was the Smits job and you were wearing that tailored shirt and those slacks." Never mind the fact that the job had been shot to hell and they had banded together to get each other out of that hell hole. He had taken a bullet that day and it changed everything - for him.