Work Text:
MONACO
Eames was profoundly, profanely and absolutely completely drunk. Drunk enough to do something embarrassing. He found his third best burner phone, the one with all the encryption and protection for this week, and he drunk texted.
SMS TO POINTY: HELLO! Sorry, didn't mean to yell. Hello! Greetings, Salutations, Moshi Moshi!
A half an hour later, when he had poured himself into his bed, his phone chimed.
SMS TO EAMES: Are you the new Olympic committee with that? What do you want?
He stared at the message. He knew what he wanted, and it wasn't hard to ask. There was a simple desire that wasn't simple at all.
SMS TO POINTY: You of course.
When he woke the next morning and saw what he did and the sheer lack of response, he packed up his kit and left Monaco. Throwing the phone, SIM card broken, into the shining sea was simply a bonus. It was beyond embarrassing and a lapse in judgement he rarely allowed himself. Arthur was a complication after all.
Post the Fischer Job, post successful Inception, he'd taken Arthur out to dinner. Arthur had taken him to a penthouse that was lovely and modern but not even close to Arthur's lovely, pale, strong body. It certainly wasn't an evening he regretted but it... stuck.
He didn't have a problem as deep as Cobb's, no ghost Arthur stalked his dreams. But he indulged, having his own PASIV, courtesy of Saito's money. There were lines he wouldn't cross, no fantasy fucks, no stolen kisses. Just a set of reruns: Arthur and his peevish looks, his explanations, his meticulous planning.
Eames knew how bad he had it. It wasn't the first time he'd been grateful of his acting talents. The drunk texts were a horrific and recent manifestation of his mild obsession. Arthur kept answering them though so hope lived eternal.
He was doomed if he didn't stop this nonsense.
PERTH/SYDNEY
With an inheritance job out of the way, Eames made his way to the Perth Airport. The city was not his usual cup of tea but he found it charming enough. It was Australia after all.
Now he waited at his terminal for a flight to Sydney, absentmindedly people watching. It helped keep city levels populated when dream sharing. Through the departing crowd he thought he saw a familiar face. Protocol said to ignore each other and they did.
But as soon as he landed in Sydney, he pulled out his job phone and texted.
SMS TO POINTY: How wonderful it was to cross paths again!
SMS TO EAMES: So you did see me. Recommendations?
SMS TO POINTY: The Meat and Wine Co. African influence. You'll love it.
Two days later he received a new text. He felt the buzz against his thigh where his phone had been shoved. It was hard but he waited until he was done with his client before opening his phone.
SMS TO EAMES: Excellent suggestion. It was delicious. Meet me in Chicago.
Eames nearly choked on air but rushed to pack his hotel room. Obviously there was a job to be had.
CHICAGO
Chicago was frozen. Eames hadn't forgotten how cold it was exactly but he had been caught unaware. His first stop, even before his chosen hotel, was to buy appropriate clothing. The outerwear was barely fashionable but at least he was warm.
"Fucking beastly," he complained to no one in his hotel room. He'd unpacked his newly acquired clothing and took a shower. The flights had been long.
He'd just wrapped himself up in the soft and cozy bathrobe when there was a knock at his door. The PASIV was hidden so he peeked out the peephole. Then he flung the door open and smiled.
"Arthur, darling! Come in, please," he gestured into his room. "Were you watching the hotel? You arrived awfully fast. How was Perth?"
Arthur, immaculately dressed in a mid gray coat and suit, stepped in and shut the door while Eames made his way towards the bathroom. "Yes I was and Perth was profitable. Eames, I..."
"Ha! Alliteration very good. If you'll give me a moment to dress we can talk about the job."
He turned to shut the bathroom door and found Arthur, stripped down to his dress shirt and trousers, right behind him. "Jesus, Arthur! Scare a man..."
"For the love of God, shut up, Eames," Arthur snapped and hauled Eames in for a kiss. Eames complied immediately, arms wrapping around Arthur's slim frame.
Arthur had a mild blush on his cheeks when the kiss parted. Eames reached out and touched one pink cheek. "I've never seen this before."
Arthur rolled his eyes. "You've probably never made a first move you were unsure of before."
"Oh, darling, I can assure you I have. Every drunken text to you comes to mind."
"I'm going to regret this but," Arthur started reluctantly. Eames watched his Adam's apple bob in that elegant throat. "They worked. Mostly. I, ah, appreciate your drunken candor."
Eames chuckled. "You are the only person I've ever done that to."
"Good," Arthur growled and tugged Eames to the bed. "I prefer it that way."
An hour or so later, Arthur traced his fingers across Eames 's chest. They were snuggled in bed, room dark, curtains open to watch the snow. "You know every one of those drunk texts made me happy. You don't let your guard down usually."
Eames hugged him closer. "The only person I've ever done that to I reiterate."
Arthur bit his shoulder. "And the only one you ever will."
"Are you proposing, Arthur?" Eames found himself not panicking at the idea.
"Oh no, that will be your job, someday," Arthur said. "Now shush and watch the snow."