artfulforger | Ships Passing: The fallout of falling in to bed

Despite himself, Arthur chuckled. "Normally, I don't have time to lay about but there are the times that I do and I don't do it in suits," he smirked. The teasing and the joking sounded forced even to Arthur's ears but he'd give the forger credit, he was trying.

"It isn't the first time you've made bets though," he said and glance down at their interlocked fingers. "Is it? You usually know what you're getting yourself into with shit like that. Did you pay off your debt?" From how Eames made it sound, he had and in that case, the fault rested with the dead bodies not Eames.

He sighed, sitting back and looking at their hands, their joined fingers. "Yeah, I paid it. And no, not the first time. Just the wrong type of men. That's what screwed me over. I paid and then they started spreading shit that I hadn't paid and they'd have my arse if I didn't. Problem is then, others won't help because they think you're a deadbeat."

Even as he spoke, anger riled up in his tones, rumbling through him. "So they screwed me into a corner thinking they could get me to work for them. Except this job came along." Which explained why he leapt at coming along.

Arthur shook his head, feeling his irritation starting to rise toward them. "Anyone worth their shit wouldn't think that you're a deadbeat." Sure, after Mal died, Eames had gone off to Mombasa to hide away from the world but Arthur knew, fucking Cobb knew and many others in the business knew that Eames was exceptionally good at what he did and knew how to get the job done. But that didn't always count in places that Eames liked to spend his time -- especially after Mal.

Sure, the man liked to place bets and gamble but Arthur always figured that was part of what made Eames, Eames. "It was stupid to place bets with that type of man," he wasn't going to sugar coat that part no matter what they may be doing behind closed doors. "But they were idiots if they thought you, or we were going to take that laying down. You did what you had to do," he said, finally and looked at him. "I might have had to kick your ass if you had lead them to us." But he hadn't and that was the most important thing.

A part of Arthur said that Eames could have called him but until this job, they hadn't exactly been on speaking terms. He moved in closer to the forger and tightened his hand around Eames' very capable hand.

None of them had handled it well. Eames worse than others. He had bolted even before the funeral, not knowing until nearly a year later that Arthur had left with Cobb. He'd always resented that and yet blamed himself at the same time. He'd made his choices and he had to live with them. And he had, miserable and drunk for a long time but it hadn't done much for him.

"Yeah well... I've avoided a lot of the things I used to do since her death," he admitted in a soft voice. "So they thought maybe I went soft. I know others thought it." He frowned, darkly and looked away. "I wouldn't risk any of you," he muttered.

"I know you wouldn't have," Arthur said. He debated for a moment what he could do before he released Eames' hand and slipped onto his lap. He used a hand to tilt Eames' face back to his and gave him a small smile. "You're not like that," he paused. "Well, if it were any other job, maybe with Cobb you would have. But no, you wouldn't risk us."

He never considered Eames as soft. He always figured there was something going on underneath all the layers.

He hadn't thought of it but he wanted that, sliding his arms around Arthur and pulling him close with a hand splaying over the small of his back. Staring up into his eyes, nodding though he barely smiled.

He did chuckle though.

"Naw, he has the kids. Without them though... who knows." He sighed, shaking his head. "I don't like killing, Arthur."

Arthur had wanted it too. It felt more -- intimate in some way and safe even to be on Eames' lap. It was something that he was starting to realize that he liked, a lot. He moved in closer and rest his forehead against Eames'. "I know," he said, voice soft. "I don't like it either." He slid his hand along Eames' neck and brushed over his pulse with his thumb.

He sighed, closing his eyes. "I know people think I do, and I know I've been good at it but... dammit! I haven't killed anyone since before she died," he admitted, realizing how much else he was confessing too. It made him realize just how much he trusted Arthur that he wasn't keeping this from him, that he wanted the other man to know his past.

Arthur stayed silent. He wasn't used to Eames being this open with him but he was pleased because it meant Eames trusted him just as Arthur trusted him. "I don' think they gave you much of a choice, Eames," he said. Arthur was logic and from what he could tell, if they weren't giving up and followed Eames all the way to Paris from Mombasa, there was no other option.

Dipping his head, he kissed at the side of his neck. "Just... I am not a risk," he said flatly, revealing his true fear. That Arthur would see him as a threat now. "I caught up," he added. "I am not a risk. I still want in on inception."

Edited 2012-06-15 03:22 (UTC)

Arthur tilted his head for his lips and blinked. Honestly, that hadn't even crossed his mind. He was undoubtedly sure that had it been anyone else -- Nash -- he wouldn't have given him another chance. Wouldn't have let him speak his peace. But Eames...Eames was and had always been different. Least he did his fucking job correctly.

"I didn't even consider that," he admitted softly. "You got rid of the risk and therefore, you're still in on Inception. I wouldn't work this job with anyone else."

"Good. I wasn't sure. With the risk, and all the years between..." He shook his head, trying to offer a smile. "No matter how good we are in bed, I know that it isn't online with the job and that you have to judge on its own."

He wouldn't have held it against him. Not in the least. Not if he had thought Eames was a detriment to the job.

Arthur understood that and under normal circumstances it would have stayed true. Still, as far as Arthur was concerned, Eames had cleaned up his mess and that's what the important factor was. Besides, they wouldn't find a better forger than Eames and Arthur was completely unwilling to do this job without him in.

He leaned in and pressed their lips together in a slow kiss. "If you hadn't done what you did or hadn't called me if you needed me, we would have a different matter on our hands." Arthur was nothing but honest.

He nodded once, slowly because he wanted to stay close to Arthur, needed another small kiss which he took with a soft sound that was nearly a sigh. So much would have been different if he hadn’t acted swiftly and he knew that. It wasn’t something he’d let happen.

“If you had to cover with me to the others, I owe you. I’m more worried though… I know how pissed and annoyed I would have been if you hadn’t called the day after. I definitely owe you for that.” He winked at him, trying to act himself.

Admittedly, he had been a bit annoyed at the lack of contact yesterday and then not to mention his, admittedly, small pity party (party of one before he knew what had happened). "Yes, yes you do," Arthur smirked, a little teasingly. "Especially after I let you spank me." Which had probably been one of the factors in his mind when he thought of why Eames hadn't contacted him beyond a simple text message.

Arthur shifted on his lap and pressed his lips against Eames' again softly, biting playfully on his bottom lip. "Are you hungry at all? Have food -- that I didn't cook."

Eames hadn't expected Arthur to bring that up and, despite the horrible day he'd had, he couldn't help but laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, you know... I'm willing to bet that's how you want me to owe you so I'm not buying you're off put by that," he teased, leaning into the kiss.

"I could eat," he admitted with the shrug of one shoulder. "You can't cook?"

"Now who said that," he asked teasingly with a smirk, though there was another part of his brain that said otherwise. He chuckled and bit on his lip. "I wasn't joking when I mentioned setting a microwave on fire." Arthur made to slide from Eames' lap so he could go grab the food out of the fridge.

"You make it obvious," he said, almost sounding like himself. "I kind of want to see it," he admitted, tugging Arthur back for a quick kiss.

"Don't be long," he admonished in a soft, tender growl.

"Do I," he mused, noticing that Eames was sounding little by little like his normal self. He allowed Eames to tug him back in before pulling back and licking his lips. "What do you want to see," Arthur asked, looking at him. He found himself wanting to do what he could to make this a better evening/night for the forger. There was of course, as Eames had surmised, that urge to have Eames spank him again.

"Mm, I won't," Arthur murmured and slid from his lap to walk over to the small kitchen and taking out the food. It was all food that he knew wouldn't be bad if it was cold - salad, cold cuts, cheese, fruit and bread.

"You trying to cook," he said with a grin. "Or you blowing up a kitchen. I could be happy with either outcome," he admitted, watching Arthur the entire time. Just being here, being alone with Arthur and able to stop thinking about what had happened, what he had with this man suddenly. It was different and comforting at the same time.

That Arthur had gone through all that trouble meant a lot to Eames and he couldn't help but smile that he'd done this.

"You're good to me, you know."

Despite himself, Arthur laughed at that and sent Eames an amused grin. "You're the one who would have to call the fire department," he said, coming back over with two bowls of salad and a plate with a selection of the bread, cheese, fruit and cold cuts.

He shrugged a shoulder and sent him a smile. If given the chance, you would probably do the same. "Want something to drink?"

"Probably not here," he said with a glance around. "I kind of like this place. Maybe the warehouse. Let Cobb clean it up," he said as if that was the answer to everything. Except they knew it wasn't. It was Arthur that solved the problems,. Arthur the one that fixed things. Now he just maybe didn't have to do it alone; like he had for the last three years.

"I'd love something. Doesn't even have to be alcohol," he admitted.

"No, I am particularly fond of this apartment," Arthur mused with a smirk. He shook his head. They both knew that it was he who solved the problem and fixed what needed to be fixed. Having done it by himself for a number of years, it was no wonder he had taken so well to the other night -- just giving the reins to Eames for a little bit. "And we both know exactly who he would get to clean it up for him," he said dryly before walking back into the kitchen to get them both a drink.

Once he returned, he took a seat next to Eames, instead of returning to his lap, so they could both eat easier and handed a soda to him. "If you do want alcohol, I do have plenty of it left," he sent a sideways glance at him. It was the alcohol that had brought them to this point afterall. Alcohol and being the opportunists that they were.

That comment about the apartment did leave Eames silent for a moment because he had realized that Arthur had gone out of his way. He never had to let him come here. He could have arranged for a hotel for the night. He could have insisted they go to Eames' place. Instead he'd let Eames come here.

"You know, you didn't have to invite me back here, even after I asked," he admitted in a low voice. "I mean, this isn't a throw away place, is it?" It definitely didn't look like it.

"Let me eat first. I think that pizza was the last time I ate," he confessed, shrugging one shoulder. "Might not want alcohol before I eat."

Arthur grew silent for a minute before looked at Eames. "I wouldn't have had you come here if I didn't want you here," he admitted, softly. He shook his head and looked around the apartment. "I've had it for going on five years now." Not many people knew about it. It was under the assumed name Brendan Samson who had had the apartment since his college years and now those formative years in an architectural firm.

He frowned. "Should have gotten something more hearty," he said and looked at the salad and selections in front of them.

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Oooooh, that icon! <3

I do love that one

<3