InsaneJournal

Who: Arthur and Eames, Also starring Sir Leon!
What: A reunion of sorts.
Where: Outside the Casino
When: uh, backdated again? (shut up, I’m slow) After this thread, 16th February, 2011. Yes, during the enforced marriages.
Warning: Eames has a filthy mouth. Arthur apparently likes it.
Status: Complete/closed



Arthur was admittedly nervous. More so now than the night when everything revolving around this question went down. He almost didn’t want to know the answer, but he practically lived with the other two, despite this current living setup. It just seemed now was as good as any time to ask Eames. There wasn’t a need to prolong the wait. He would have liked to, though, after Eames’ return text.

Finally getting a chance to move away from the floor of the casino, Arthur smoothed a hand back over his head. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes he’d picked up but hadn’t smoked yet, thumbing over the package. Arthur had been close to smoking one earlier today, but had done his best not to. It had been fourteen months since his last and he wanted to keep it that way. At least for now. Pocketing them, he moved out in front of the building, waiting for Eames.

Eames made his way to the casino, chain-smoking and talking with Leon as they went. He gradually became quieter as they got closer, though, since Arthur's "We need to talk" message had had quite the ominous tone about it. He didn't like to think on the last time the man had said that to him, it being so close after Mal's death and all that. As they approached the building, Eames nodded to himself when he confirmed that the figure waiting outside was actually Arthur, then turned to Leon and wondered aloud how this was going to work. He was naturally going to wish for some small amount of privacy, but equally, he didn’t want Leon to get bored staring at the outside wall of the casino. Leon assured him that he’d be fine sitting inside, people-watching. And it wasn’t like he’d get lifted for loitering about, Eames supposed, since Parker knew everything anyway and so she’d know why Eames’ “husband” was inside on his own with no sign of himself or Arthur.

The temptation to pull that pack out and smoke every last cigarette down was eating at him as soon as Eames came into view. The guy had lucked out with his appointed “husband” though. Leon was a rather strapping fellow. Not saying he was as brilliant as his own, because the Doctor, though in his own opinion was a very odd duck, was pretty good looking in his own right. There was a slight uneasiness though with seeing Eames with someone else. It shouldn't bother him. It didn’t. Really. It was enough that Arthur pulled the pack back out and flicked open the top of the carton, looking down into it longingly. One wouldn’t kill him.

He didn’t have much time though to make that decision as Eames was there before he could manage to pull one out. Arthur’s posture tightened up, looking stiff as ever while he gave Leon a slight nod and turned to Eames, unable to even fake a smile. He didn’t want to do this anymore. He really didn’t want his question answered. He knew he had to ask it though.

“Hey.” That’s all he had.

"I'll come find you later," Eames told Leon, then lit yet another cigarette while he watched the knight walk into the casino. Then he looked round at Arthur and nodded at him before blowing out a lungful of smoke. "Arthur. You wanted to talk?"

He itched to reach over and touch the other man, somehow get rid of the ridiculous frown that was threatening to become a permanent fixture on the Point Man's face (more so than usual, anyway) but he knew that it wouldn't be welcome at all, so he shoved both hands in his pockets and waited.

The pit that Arthur felt in his stomach started to feel like a chasm. His finger flicked the carton of cigarettes open and closed for a moment before giving and and pulling one out. Tucking the carton back into his pocket, he pulled out a lighter and lit up. That first drag felt good, but the next gave him no comfort at all. Fuck it.

Arthur realized he hadn’t yet answered Eames, all he’d managed to do was dig into the sidewalk with his foot enough that he might have scuffed up the bottom of his shoe. He needed to say something, “Yeah.” Brilliant.

He figured he shouldn’t fight about it with himself any longer. Taking one more drag off of the cigarette between his lips, Arthur blew the smoke out his nose and looked up at Eames, “Why, the other night, did Ariadne need to ask your permission? I mean, I knew you both were drunk out of your heads, but why would she need to ask you?”

Oh. Oh shit. Fuck. Bollocks. He considered running through every swear he knew, in every language, but that would take an incredibly long time and so he settled for nodding and looking at his feet. He took his time to look back at Arthur, but he would have this discussion whilst looking the other man in the eye. "Why do you think, Arthur?"

He rubbed at his nose, then took another drag on his cigarette, his free hand sneaking into his pocket to grab hold of his totem, to ground him in reality. He wanted to pace. Bloody fuck, he wanted to do something but he forced himself to stay where he was, looking at Arthur. "I just. I wish you could remember here, from your first visit. Even a little bit. It would make things so much easier."

One last scrub at his face, then he nodded to himself. "You've heard Ariadne and myself discussing previous experiments. I was a woman for a while, there were zombies, these bloody rings," and he held his hand up as if Arthur needed an illustration of them, "and... there was another one, I hated it. We were unable to lie. At first it was avoidable, to a point. You only had to answer questions that were asked of you. By the end of it, we were... confessing things to everyone. And so, naturally, I needed to confess certain things to you."

This wasn't what he wanted to hear, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to hear anything more. Leaning back against the wall, he flicked the ash from his cigarette, the words digging deeper and deeper. He really really didn't want to know anymore. Living in ignorance may have been the best thing, as foolish as it sounded. And when Eames mentioned the zombie thing again it felt like a shot to his chest.

When Eames was finished speaking, he looked up hesitantly, "Can we not talk about the zombie thing. I know I, the me now, wasn't here for that but-...just please, let's not talk about that." The thing he'd done his best to avoid experiencing, his biggest fear, happened. And as far as he knew his past self here wasn't able to stop it.

It took Arthur a moment to speak again, it was a bit to take in. Chewing at the corner of his mouth, "Did you regret telling me?"

"Of course. I won't mention the zombies again. I'm not all that fond of remembering it, anyway." Arthur's next question, though. Oh, it put the most genuine smile on Eames' face, since... since before he'd turned into his alternate self and Arthur had left, actually. "I try to regret nothing, like the song says. But in this case, I didn't even need to try."

Stepping closer to Arthur, he finally gave into temptation and reached over to cup the other man's cheek, brushing his thumb over where dimples would appear if Arthur bothered to smile. He spoke quietly, but confidently. "I told you that I had never stopped wanting you, and that I love you. The other you felt that since he was of a similar mindset, we should get back together, and so we did. Then you were sent back." Eames paused at that point, his confidence obviously faltering as he tried to work out what to say next. "I. It was... That is, you, uh. When you came back here, you... didn't remember. So I didn't say anything. But yes, that's probably why Ariadne saw fit to ask my permission. At a guess."

It almost felt like a cruel joke. Eames still loved him, after everything. And all this time Arthur still had felt the same too. It made him feel sick, and at the same time he felt himself leaning more into Eames' hand than he should. Letting the cigarette slip from his fingers, he reached forward to grab a hold of the front of the Forger's coat. His thumb ran along the seam there, worrying it against the fabric.

Arthur could feel his heart pounding in his ears as he pulled on the jacket, tugging Eames closer, "I don't know how you still put up with me. Or how you make something so incredibly difficult seem so easy. Like forgiving me for the last few years." Arthur's face finally broke into a weak smile, but he meant it. There was nothing forced about it.

"Every job we had after what I did," he shook his head, pulling the jacket forward until he could feel the warmth coming off of Eames' body, "I always wondered how I was able to get through seeing you leave each time without a word to you. I'm a fucking idiot. My feelings never changed as much as I tried to deny it."

Eames didn't need any encouragement to move closer to Arthur. His hand moved round to comb through the other man's hair before settling at the nape of his neck, and he couldn't stop grinning. "I don't know how I do it either. I must be some sort of superhero, what do you think? Or perhaps it's just because I love you, and I never stopped, even if you're a fucking idiot with a bit of a problem with denial."

He could not stop grinning. At all. He moved in as close as he could get, and let his forehead rest against Arthur's, content to just be that close to him, sharing the same space and breathing the same air. That said, there was only so long he could be quite that close to the other man without wanting to do something, and so he was tilting his head and moving in for a kiss without even thinking about any possible consequences. For example, the godawful pain that grew exponentially with every second he continued to kiss Arthur.

God, that kiss was something he’d thought on numerous times between this moment and years before. Feeling Eames press forward and kiss as he kissed back caused a huge burden to be lifted. But at the same time a distinctly sharp pain began growing in his chest. It was a numb pain until Arthur got a little more eager into the kiss. His arms had wrapped around Eames’ lower back, clutching onto him. He wasn’t ready to let go yet.

The pain was quickly becoming unbearable, though. Arthur whimpered against Eames’ mouth, wanting just one more second, but the pain was choking him. He had to pull away, gasping for air, his eyes watering a little from the pain, “Fucking...the hell..” Yeah, it wasn’t fair. It didn’t stop him from leaning forward and kissing Eames again though.

Eames had shifted his grip as well, both hands clinging to Arthur's shoulders as the pain soon grew to make even apparating feel like a bloody cakewalk. He didn't make a sound, but his knees had been about to buckle when Arthur pulled away, and he was very thankful for the respite. He slumped against the other man, legs still not quite steady despite the pain dropping away almost instantly, and struggled to draw breath. "I fucking hate this place sometimes," he ground out, and then Arthur was kissing him once more and oh, Christ, he was only human and this was Arthur kissing him, his Arthur, so he had to kiss back.

The pain was even worse this time, and he barely managed a couple of seconds. "Arthur, Arthur, we have... Arthur, love, stop, please," he managed to force out past the pain, and then pushed at the Point Man's shoulders to move him back, muttering constantly. "Believe me, I want to do so, so many filthy things, disgusting depraved things, I promise, I want to do them all to you right now, but I can't, these stupid fucking rings, this fucking awful place, they're like... such bastard cockblockers, my God. I want you, so fucking much, but if we keep this up, I think I might actually die from pain, fucking Christ, what a way to go..."

He shifted so that he could rest his forehead on Arthur's shoulder, and concentrated on just breathing until he felt less like he'd just been put through a blender and then forced through a sieve. "When it's our turn to be fake-married, I swear, you are not leaving the bloody bed, do you hear me? Neither of us are," he said, once things started calming down, then lifted his head up to look at Arthur again. "But... we still need to talk. About Ariadne."

Arthur couldn't hold them both up, the pain had given him quite a beating during those few seconds. He laughed lightly as he very very carefully lowered them both to the ground. Arthur could honestly give a damn about his suit right now, more important things were going on. Though hearing Eames suggest disgusting and depraved things gave him something to smile about, oddly enough.

But Ariadne. His mind briefly returned to the night in question previously. This was a bit of a pickle. “Yeah, about Ariadne..” He was frowning again, the creases growing more evident in his forehead the more he thought about it. Leaning his shoulder into Eames’ chest, he looked up at him, “You’re not upset that I, you know,” he cleared his throat, “Like like her. Right? I mean, you didn’t look too entirely pissed the night all that happened.”

Eames knelt on the ground in front of Arthur and he tried, he really did, he tried his utmost to stop grinning, but he had his Arthur back, and it was glorious. And then Arthur asked if he was upset, and he couldn't help but laugh. "I... I was. When I had that bugger of a headache, I saw you both together and I was terrified you both would leave me. But you know how I get with those headaches, love, I couldn't think my way out of a one-way street."

He lifted his head after that, and reached out to smooth the frownlines on Arthur's forehead away. "The thing is. I know how you feel about her, because I have eyes in my head. Equally, I know how she feels about you, again because I can see how the pair of you act around each other. And because I listened to her on the night we got incredibly drunk. And because she told me." He paused after that, concentrating on just touching Arthur's face very gently with his fingertips. He licked his lips, then brushed his thumb over Arthur's lower lip and almost leant in to follow that with another kiss, but since he didn't fancy frying his brains out, he sat back with a groan.

"I, uh. I also know how she feels about me, since she admitted as much. And I know how I feel about the pair of you. So, I suppose we need to talk about... about all of us?" Didn't he feel unsure? Bloody hell.

Arthur simply nodded, taking all this in and figuring out how best to deal with all of these flighty emotions he was running through again until this experiment was finished. It was bad enough that he was seriously considering torturing himself again for another kiss, but he was even more sure that Eames probably wouldn’t appreciate the pain as much. Instead, he took Eames’ hand back, his thumb running over the heel of his rough hands. He spent a moment relearning them. It had been some time since he’d been fortunate enough to see them this close. There was a frown that hung on his lips as he seemed to be contemplating something, then it vanished, replaced with an irritated expression, “This is why I’m never getting married. You can’t do the things you want to.”

And the smile was back, dimples and all and he even chanced kissing Eames’ knuckles before standing up, his stomach seizing with the pain from affection. It quickly faded as he reached down, offering a hand to Eames. “Come on, I’m sure your husband would like to get home.”

“Darling, if you’re referring to Ariadne and myself as things, I’ll have to take umbrage at you,” Eames replied with a small smile, only grinning whenever Arthur’s dimples showed up. He waited for Arthur to let go of his hand, wincing in sympathy at the flash of pain across the other man’s face, and then they were standing up and brushing dirt from their trousers. “Either I’ll take him home, or perhaps take him gambling. I’ll see what he wants to do.”

Arthur turned to go back into the Casino, but Eames reached over and caught his arm, pulling him back one more time and standing close enough that they were sharing breath. “Arthur, I... I understand, you know,” he said, his hand coming up to touch where Arthur’s dimples where, “Why you decided we should split up. I didn’t like it, but I understood. I always understood.”

If he tilted his head just so, they could have been kissing again. And probably feeling like someone was shoving red-hot pokers through various vital organs, so he resisted the temptation to do so and settled for brushing his thumb over Arthur’s lower lip once more. “We’d best move before I do something horrifically painful for both of us, love,” he murmured, and then let go, gesturing towards the doors. “Come on. Parker will only end up kicking your arse if I hold you back any longer.”