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Arthur woke up to the screaming. Dom. His screams are loud and anguished. Arthur was up and moving, Phillipa and her brother already there outside their father’s door, standing with James’ hand in hers. They both look so small and scared looking. One quick pat to her shoulder, and Arthur’s in Dom’s bedroom, shaking him awake.
Thirty minutes later Arthur is making breakfast, yesterday’s shirtsleeves rolled up and wrinkled. He has pancakes on a plate on the table and is working on bacon, keeping an eye on the time. Eames is coming and he and Arthur are going on a vacation. Arthur’s been staying with Cobb, putting back together the pieces of their lives and it’s been wonderful – he loves the children, and is pleased that Dom is – and yes, he really is – getting better, but what he really loves is that his totem is locked away in a box he keeps in his dresser – untouched for months.
“Uncle Arthur, will you take me to dance class tonight?” Phillipa asks, wide blue eyes on every move Arthur makes.
“Not tonight, sweetheart. I’m going on a trip with Uncle Eames. Remember? I’ll be gone for two weeks. To Paris – I showed you the pictures, remember?” he asks, praying she does because he cannot handle a full on meltdown after this morning’s tenuous beginning.
“Uncle Artie’s goin’ to see the Tower,” James whispers, chewing on the ear of his favorite stuffed animal. Geoffrey the giraffe looks, as usual, a bit worse for wear, but Arthur won’t even think about trying to get it away from the boy in order to wash him up a bit.
“Yes, James. Very good, sweetheart,” he says, smiling at him. Phillipa frowns, but doesn’t fuss too much, thankfully, especially when Arthur puts whipped cream on her pancake.
Dom walks into the kitchen, showered and just a little puffy-eyed, but still – better than Arthur expected. Arthur pushes a mug of coffee into his hands and nods to the table.
“Eames’ll be here in about half an hour. He’s always…” Arthur says, looking a bit harried as he checks his watch again.
“Right on time, Darling,” Eames says, leaning on the doorframe, looking exquisite, perfectly dressed in a dark blue Tom Ford suit. Instead of a pocket square, he has his tie tucked into his jacket’s front pocket, and his perfectly pressed, crisp white dress shirt is open at the collar just enough to reveal a hint of one of the many tattoos on his chest. Arthur nearly drops the pan he’s holding, jaw dropping as he takes him in.
“Exactly right,” he says, turning, hiding a blush and a grin as he cleans up a bit and makes Eames some tea.
“Looks like I’m the one running late,” he says, still grinning because how can he not? He’s going to Paris. With Eames.
“Well, do move along, Darling – I’ve got this,” he says, stepping behind Arthur and pressing a kiss to the back of his neck. “Truly, Love…. Go on and get your shower – I know you’re already packed and that your suit is going to be breathtaking once you’re in it, so move along and I’ll finish up.”
Arthur just shakes his head, reaches behind him to keep Eames close for a moment before finally moving away.
“Alright, then… alright. Dom, there are meals already made in the freezer and tonight’s lunch and dinner are already made and here in the refrigerator,” Arthur starts, but Dom’s already up and at the damned thing reciting word for word Arthur’s painfully given instructions on each and every meal.
He bites his tongue wanting to call Dom an ass, but takes the stairs at a jog instead, giving him a single-digit salute instead.
Twenty-two minutes later, Arthur comes down the stairs in his own impeccable suit – a pinstripe Ralph Lauren Black Label and a John Varvatos tie that makes Eames positively salivate.
“What a lovely beginning to our vacation, Arthur,” he says, Phillipa sitting on his lap as they color together.
Arthur’s smile would be smug, but he’s too taken by the way Eames looks as he sits there with her, patiently drawing out a scene in Paris, ‘The Tower’ tall and lovely in the backdrop.
He goes to Dom first, holding out his arms to James who is sitting with his Daddy gnawing on Geoffrey. “Come here, big boy. I need a hug and a kiss to last me all my vacation long. Can you do that?”
James nods emphatically, and Arthur is extremely grateful for his clean hands as they grip his shoulders as Arthur pulls him up to his chest. He peppers his sweet face with kisses and hugs him tightly.
“You be very good for Daddy, James, and Uncle will bring you a surprise when I come back, alright?” More nodding and a squeal in Arthur’s ear has them both laughing as Dom stands to take him again, pulling Arthur into a half-hug.
“Go and have a good time, Uncle Arthur – you’ll be sorely missed, but we all know how much you deserve a rest,” he says softly, calm clear eyes on Arthur as he pulls James back into his arms.
Arthur shakes his head and rolls his eyes a little, but kisses Dom’s cheek. “Yes, Dear,” he teases, moving to Phillipa, who is squirming down off of Eames’ lap and trying to run past Arthur, already gearing up for a good cry. She does not handle goodbyes well at all, and Arthur had prepared for this, but it still broke his heart.
“Philly, don’t cry, sweetheart. Uncle Eames and I will be back in two weeks and I’ll have lovely presents for you and we’ll have lots and lots of play time, alright?” he promises, letting her bury her head in his chest.
“Don’t want presents, want you to stay home with me and Jamie and Daddy. We’ll be good, Uncle Arthur… I promise we’ll be good,” she begs.
“Philly, you’re always good – no matter what you do, you’ll always be good. But Uncle Arthur has to go. I swear to you I’ll be back, sweetheart. The both of us, alright?” he says, petting her hair.
When she finally nods, he lets Dom take his daughter, too, settling her onto his hip. He kisses her cheek and strokes her hair.
“We’ll call you when we get there – and I’ll call you every day I’m gone, alright, kids? We’ll talk every day,” he promises, and he nods to Dom, Eames there taking his arm and tugging him gently before Arthur changes his mind and decides to put their trip off for the third time this year.
Managing Arthur into the awaiting cab, cases in the trunk, Arthur tries to compose himself, the worry lines creasing his face.
“They’re going to be fine, love… And you’ll be back before you know it,” Eames promises, squeezing his hand.
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Arthur never wants to leave their room. Not ever. They’d spent the last five days wandering around, sight-seeing and revisiting old haunts, but this room… this view… it was perfect.
Eames, asleep on his stomach across the crisp white duvet, looks lovely in the streaming sunlight – morning having just broken. Arthur is sitting sipping coffee, a hand in Eames’ hair, petting lazily. The night before, they’d been sitting at dinner and Arthur was looking at Eames and he knew it was time. He was going to ask him to marry him. Today. No more waiting. Slipping from bed, Arthur dresses quickly, stopping only to press a kiss to Eames’ temple and leave a post it on the bathroom mirror. He’d be back in less than an hour with coffee and croissants, and hopefully a ring, too.
He made a call to a friend and was thrilled to hear he would open his shop for Arthur. On the way, Arthur explained what he wanted, and the jeweler was quite sure he’d have something suitable for him. Once Arthur arrived, he took a long few moments looking at different styles, and finally decided on a platinum band with a single square diamond in the center. Simple, elegant and perfect. He had the inside inscribed –A Love beyond the world, cannot be separated by it – a favorite of Eames’. It was all done within an hour or so, and in the meantime, Arthur had gathered up a fine breakfast of croissants and strong coffee and sweets.
He picked up the ring, slipped the box into his pocket and headed back to their hotel. It was hardly eleven in the morning by the time he slipped back inside the room and Eames had hardly moved a muscle. He set everything down and slipped back out of his clothes, climbing into bed with him. He stretched out on top of him, wrapping his arms around the strong, warm body. He pressed kisses into Eames’ skin and hummed in his ear, slowly waking the giant bear of a man.
“Entre deux coeurs qui s’aiment, nul besoin de paroles,” he whispered, and then Eames shifted so quickly that Arthur was left gasping above him as Eames shifted and pulled him against his chest, holding him tightly. Seeing Eames’ sleep-creased face made Arthur laugh a little, and he had to kiss him – he had no other choice.
After slowly pulling away, Eames sighed happily. “That we are, Arthur. That we are,” he says softly, leaning up to kiss him once more. “Good morning, hello and all that. And is there food? The note you left said you were going out to get food,” he said, sounding growly with sleep, eyes twinkling in such a way that it caught Arthur’s breath. He wasn’t always perfect, but in this moment….
“And coffee. And something else, too,” Arthur said, smiling mischievously, as he slipped out of Eames’ embrace. He walked naked to where he’d hung his coat on the back of a hook, taking the box from the pocket and carrying it back to the bed, climbing back onto it and kneeling beside Eames.
“And something else, too,” he said, looking shyly at Eames, suddenly young and unsure. So much so that Eames has to raise a hand and cup the man’s cheek, stroking a thumb into his hairline. After a few false starts, Arthur tries again.
“I know I’m impossible. That we fight. That we… don’t always seem to see things from the same point of view, especially when we’re working. But… I do love you, Eames. I love you so much that I can’t breathe sometimes. I love you so much that my life seems pointless without you. Moments that seem to pass less and less. And we’re apart far too often these days – I want… I need that to be different. I need you.”
He leans into Eames’ touch, turning to kiss his palm.
“I want you to marry me, Eames. Will you? Will you marry me?”
And Arthur, who is kneeling there looking small and young and so unsure, nearly breaks Eames’ heart. Arthur, who is perfect. Arthur who drives him crazy and leaves him wanting after every single time they meet. Arthur, who is lovely, strong, brave and unflinching, brilliantly fearless… looks afraid. And Eames can’t stand it for one moment more, and so he ends it.
Sitting all the way up, he cups Arthur’s face in both hands and kisses him. He kisses him so well that by the time he’s finished, his Arthur is gorgeously flushed and breathless. And then he does it again.
By the time he’s finished kissing Arthur, and they’re wet and sticky and warm and starving, he finally shifts and finds the box that’s pressing against the small of his back. “So let’s see it, then,” he whispers in Arthur’s ear, slipping it into his hand.
Arthur smiles, and it’s open and beautiful and just for Eames. With steady fingers, he opens the box and shows Eames. “So is it a yes, then? Will you marry me, Mr. Eames?” he asks, much steadier now, body glistening with cooling sweat, long hair framing his pale, pink cheeks.
Eames holds out his hand and lets Arthur slip the ring onto his finger, then he captures Arthur’s hand in his own.
“It’s bloody gorgeous, Arthur. It was a definite maybe before I saw it, but now it’s a very firm yes,” he said, grinning all the while.
Arthur spreads their fingers so they can hold hands, and curls up beside Eames, resting his head on his chest and staring at Eames’ finger. “There’s an inscription,” he whispers. And Eames turns, pressing a kiss to Arthur’s temple. “Tell me… I don’t want to take it off just yet.”
So Arthur does.
Entre deux coeurs qui s’aiment, nul besoin de paroles.
Two hearts in love need no words.
Marceline Desbordes-Valmore
"They that love beyond the world, cannot be separated by it" - William Penn