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“The cabin is secure,” Arthur says, peering into the trunk of the truck, already drenched by the heavy rain.“It’s been in use recently so there are some provisions in the freezer but it doesn’t seem to be occupied currently.”
“Great,” Eames groans from where he’s leaning against the trunk’s frame. “Will you be a dear and--oh thank you, darling,” he says, taking Arthur’s offered hand and sliding carefully down, mindful of putting weight on his sprained ankle.
Arthur’s expression is pinched in a scowl as he helps him hop his way to the cabin’s front steps where Saito waits for them under the awning. Together they help Eames up the steps and inside. The cabin is sparsely furnished with a chair and a table, a too-small two-seater sofa where Eames would bet good money that not even Ariadne can fit to lie down, a rocking chair swinging lightly on the other side of the fireplace and a round coffee table. At the back of the room are two doors, which Eames guesses must be a bathroom and a bedroom respectively.
Behind him, he can hear the car sticking in the mud as Yusuf takes it around the cabin to park. Arthur takes him to the two-seater, helps him sit down before taking careful hold of Eames’ leg and braces it on the coffee table. Eames’ trousers are soaked through and Eames grits his teeth as even the light drag of the fabric against his swollen ankle makes him hurt. Arthur makes a sound as he takes off Eames’ shoe, his scowl deepening if that’s even possible.
“Am I going to live, doctor?” Eames asks, trying to smile even through his hiss.
“Barely,” Arthur answers, stroking his fingers gently around the swell, trying to make out if it’s a break instead of just a sprain. “Cobb, bring me the first-aid kit from the car.” He glances up to Eames. Arthur’s hair is sticking limply on his forehead, the dark smudges under his eyes looking stark against his pale skin. “We need to wrap it up to stop the swelling and ice it,” he says with a grimace, looking apologetic.
Eames shrugs and lets his head fall back on the sofa’s rest. “It’s not like I haven’t had worst, darling.”
“Still,” Arthur says and rises to his feet, “this shouldn’t have happened.”
Eames looks at him, at the tense stance of his body, the severe line of his mouth. “It isn’t your fault. You know that.”
“Still,” Arthur repeats and turns to walk to the freezer.
The front door bangs open to admit Yusuf and Cobb who hurry inside to get out of the rain’s wrath. It’s pitch black outside and the house groans at the power of the wind, rain pelting against the windows and the roof, but at least the cabin seems to be connected to electricity and Saito has already turned on the dim lights and heaters. Arthur returns with a pack of frozen peas which he applies on Eames’ ankle. The cold makes Eames shiver.
“We should get you out of those clothes,” Arthur says.
“Why, darling, I thought you’d never ask.”
Arthur ignores the quip, walking up to where their bags are left by the front door—and to be perfectly honest, it’s not one of Eames’ best lines, so it’s totally deserved.
“There’s only a thin cot in the bedroom but I found a dozen blankets and pillows,” Ariadne says suddenly from behind Eames. “This house is so weird. How are you holding up?” she asks, looking at Eames as she comes around to take a look at his injury.
“Oh, you know, regretting accepting yet another job with Cobb.”
“So the usual.” She smiles, stepping out of the way for Arthur who comes back with a small pile of clothes in his hand.
They take turns using the bathroom and the bedroom to change in privacy, Arthur helping Eames into the little bedroom last. He takes Eames’ trousers and pants off before replacing them with dry boxers and his sweats with quick motions while Eames holds onto his shoulders. Then Arthur leads him to sit down on the cot for Eames to finish getting changed on his own while Arthur shucks off his wet clothes.
“If you’re considering making me sleep in here don’t even mention it,” Eames warns him, putting on his t-shirt and reaching out a hand to Arthur’s hip, pulling him closer.
“Eames,” Arthur starts, but Eames shushes him quietly.
“Arthur,” Eames mimics, stroking his hand up Arthur’s bare side. “Have you seen how thin this cot is? The frame is going to be digging on my sides all night. Seriously, why is everything in this house so small? Feels like we’ve landed in a Hobbit’s house in Middle Earth.”
The corners of Arthur’s mouth twitch upwards and steps between Eames’ thighs in bare feet and his pyjama bottoms. Eames tilts his head back to accept the soft kiss Arthur lands on his mouth, his arm wrapping around Arthur’s trim waist.
“And where are you going to sleep with your foot in this condition?”
“On the floor like the rest of you. Ariadne can take the bed, it’s more to her size anyway.”
“Yes, try saying that to her and we’ll all have to stay awake listening to her ranting about equality and fair treatment.”
Eames chuckles, pulling him into another kiss before Arthur steps back and kneels in front of him.
“I’ll be damned if that isn’t a fine view, darling, but I’m regretful to admit this might not be the best time for one of your mind-blowing blowies.”
Arthur huffs a laugh and starts unwrapping a bandage from the first-aid kit. “Don’t worry, I wasn’t planning on it.”
“Shame.”
The Advil Eames took earlier has already started to work, lowering the pain into an insistent throb, but his ankle is so sensitive he has to hiss through his teeth when Arthur starts wrapping the swelling tightly. When Arthur’s done, Eames pulls him to sit beside him, wrapping his arm back around Arthur’s waist and tugging him close. Arthur leans his head on Eames’ shoulder and finally lets go of the tension thrumming in his body, shagging against Eames tiredly.
“You should put ice on it again,” Arthur says and now his voice sounds as tired as he must be.
Eames kisses the top of his head, smiling into the unruly curls. “In a bit.”
Arthur nuzzles into his shoulder, stifling a yawn.
“If we stay like this any longer, I will fall asleep on you.”
“And what a hardship that will be,” Eames says, tightening his hold around Arthur.
They stay like this for a few moments longer before Arthur sighs and gets up, pulling on a t-shirt and then Eames to his feet. When they exit the room, the rest have started unfolding the blankets on the floor, throwing pillows around and claiming positions. Cobb is standing in front of a window, eating one of the sandwiches Arthur packed in the cooler back in the morning, before they left the warehouse for the extraction and before everything went wrong, leading to them having to beat their hasty retreat outside their mark’s home and through the deserted roads of the Midwest.
Arthur places Eames on the sofa and goes to fetch them a couple of sandwiches too. They all chatter between them tiredly as they eat and then get under the top blankets one by one. They’ve left the outer edge of their made-up bed for Eames because it’s closer to the sofa and Eames will be able to prop his foot up if he needs to. Wisely enough nobody offers to Ariadne to take the cot in the bedroom.
Arthur sends him a rueful smile as he takes his place close to the other side, by Yusuf and Eames answers him with a small smile of his own and a shrug, irritated at not only the pain but also that he won’t get to feel Arthur pressed against him through the night because they are still keeping their relationship a secret.
“This is your fault,” Eames says at Cobb’s back as he lies down gingerly on the blankets and pillows beside Ariadne. They smell musty from being stored for god-knows-how-long in the lone closet standing against the wall of the tiny bedroom they opted to pass on and they do nothing to buffer the hardness of the creaky floorboards. Because sleeping on the floor after getting banged up and rattled is really what Eames needs right now.
“I’m truly sorry, Eames.” Ariadne says from Eames’ right, looking up at him with her big sad eyes, “but I really can never sit in the back of a vehicle. I get disgustingly sick.”
“I know, sweetheart, and I’m not blaming you for this whole mess,” Eames soothes her, petting her head gently, and really, after the last time he had to share a cab with her, he’s not particularly keen of reliving that kind of experience.
“He was probably saying it to Cobb,” Arthur speaks up from the other side of the bed. He sounds sleepy and about to drop off.
Saito hums from the middle of their lineup, in his usual amused drawl, like this is yet another fun adventure for him—which probably is. “I assure you, Mr. Eames, that I’ll make anything in my power so the rest of our travel will be much more comfortable once the storm has broken.”
“Thank you, Mr. Saito. This is but a small inconvenience that could have been easily avoided.”
Rustling comes from the other side of the bed and Eames sees Yusuf leaning up on an elbow so he can be able to look at him. “Oi! Working with Cobb isn’t worse than working with you,” he says, his brows rising up his forehead in amusement. “Do you remember that time you got us wasted on fucking ouzo and we ended up passing out at the beach in Syros? I was washing away sand and pebbles for days! And let me not mention the crabs or the officers that woke us up in the morning thinking we were some dumb tourists who got themselves killed, or the earful we got from them as they escorted us to the police department! At least this time we do’t have to sleep on the beach.”
Eames snickers lowly at the memory, remembering how Yusuf had screamed when a crab had pinched his toes in the night, flailing his legs like a maniac before passing out in the middle of waxing poetic about Ariadne’s shiny hair. Good times.
He says as much, getting a pillow thrown in his face before he can say anything more damning.
“Or that time we--” Arthur cuts himself off with a yawn, the click of his jaw audible. “That time we ended up in that mouldy shithole in Italy because you decided that cheating in cards against that gangster was a good idea.”
Eames bears up on a forearm, looking at Arthur—the poor darling can hardly keep his eyes open. “Now, darling, that was just a little bad luck. It wasn’t really my fault Sergio had hidden cameras pointed at me.”
Arthur’s response is more of a mumble than actual words but Eames is sure it’s something along the lines of yeah keep telling yourself that.
“My past adventures with both of you live on as amusing memories in my mind,” he says, smiling briefly before glaring at the last person of their team. “But they hold no candle to the shit we have to go through whenever we work job with that twerp over there.”
The twerp in question, Dominic fucking Cobb, chooses that very moment to turn around and look at him from where he’s standing at the window, looking out at the dark sky.
“What?” he says after noticing Eames’ hostile look, obviously just catching up on the conversation.
“This is your damn fault,” Eames repeats.
Dom, damn him, looks genuinely confused.“What did I do now?”
“You’re a bloody terror to work with.”
Dom shakes his head, lifting the end of the duvet to lie down at the other end. By Arthur’s side, the lucky bastard. “As flattering as it is how highly you think of me, Eames, I wasn’t the reason you tripped over that trash can.”
Eames huffs and flops down, Ariadne grouching in being jostled by his shoulder. “If Mal hadn’t shot Arthur out of the dream, again, we wouldn’t have to make a hasty escape from Donovan’s house and I would be more careful of where I was going.”
There are various kinds of grumbles and murmurs from Eames’ right, most of them agreeing with him, but Cobb doesn’t rise to the bait. He just shakes his head again and lies down properly. “Let’s discuss this in the morning, Eames.” The or never goes unsaid, but Eames knows the sun will blink out of existence before Cobb actually finds the guts to discuss why his subconscious seems to be so hung up on being violent against Arthur and Arthur alone.
“No, actually--” a bony elbow to his ribs cuts Eames off.
“Drop it,” Ariadne murmurs from beside him and turns to cuddle up to him for warmth.
Eames swears under his breath and tucks a hand under his head, glaring at the ceiling and left with nowhere for his anger to go, his ankle throbbing as he props it up on the edge of the sofa.
Silence descents slowly over the room while Eames steams inside. The sounds of people falling asleep take over, their breathing easy and even, but Eames can't stop his mind from hurtling through the various possibilities and outcomes that could have come to pass if they hadn’t been quick enough, experienced enough, to getting thrown out of a dream because Mal’s ghost was after their most experienced dreamer.
“I can hear you think,” Arthur murmurs suddenly, after a while, startling Eames who'd thought he was already fast asleep.
“Why aren’t you sleeping yet?” Eames asks, trying to not move much and jostle his leg as he raises his head to look across the sleeping bodies at Arthur.
“You’re thinking too loud,” Arthur says and yawns again.
“I can’t help it, darling,” Eames whispers and smiles softly in the dark, “you’re all the way over there. I miss my cuddle bug.”
“Call me that one more time--” the rest of Arthur’s threat gets lost inside another yawn before a rustling sound starts up, interspersed with Arthur apologising lowly as he crawls his way over the sprawled legs of their teammates.
“What are you doing?” Eames whispers, surprised and amused in equal measures as Arthur coaxes Ariadne to roll on her other side and make space for him beside Eames.
“Trying to make my life easier,” Arthur whispers back and tucks himself against Eames effortlessly.
“They will know,” Eames warns him, trying to tamp down on the giddy feeling that wants to take over his insides.
“It’s time they do,” Arthur answers and Eames lets him wrap himself happily around him, one of Arthur’s legs lodging itself between his spread thighs, his head using Eames’ bicep as a pillow. Then Arthur pecks him softly on the lips, strokes the underside of Eames’ jaw with careful fingers as Eames wraps his other arm around Arthur’s back, pulling him even closer. “Now shut up and go to sleep.”
Arthur is out like a light, the low sounds of his soft grumbly-snores lulling Eames, familiar and loved.
In the morning Eames blinks awake slowly, warm and rested despite the various aches and the soreness of sleeping on the floor. He is lying halfway onto Arthur who is already awake and talking in whispers with Cobb over Eames’ head, his long fingers brushing through Eames’ hair. Eames’ bad foot is thrown over Arthur’s calves. Yusuf and Saito are already up and puttering around the room, passing a thermos and snacks from Arthur’s cooler between them while Ariadne has spread the full size of her minuscule form horizontally over the bed, snoring like a truck caught in mud.
“As heartwarming as this is,” Cobb says from his perch on a chair, “we should get back on the road before the weather turns again.
“Bugger off,” Eames says with no heat, his voice rough from sleep. The pain has returned but he ignores it and gets even more comfortable over Arthur. “Your annoying presence is impending on my waking routine with my cuddle bug.” Eames snuffles a laugh against Arthur’s throat, making him pull on Eames hair gently in retaliation.
“Your guts really want to find themselves spilled outside your body,” Arthur says, but he’s smiling when Eames glances up at him.
“I love it when you talk dirty to me.” Eames kisses one of Arthur’s lovely dimples. Yusuf groans and Cobb springs up from his seat muttering about too much unwanted information, and Eames laughs so loud at the sounds the rest make before they rush to exit the cabin one by one that he startles Ariadne awake with a snort.
“What?” she asks, raising her head to look around blearily. She looks at Arthur and Eames confusedly for a moment before a smile splits her face in two. “I knew the two of you were a thing!”
Saito pokes his head back in at the door. “Miss Ariadne, you might want to join us in our hasty retreat from the lovebirds?”
Ariadne glances at him then back at Arthur and Eames before shaking her head and lying back down. “Nah, I think I’m good.”
Saito nods gracefully and shuts the door again to the sound of Yusuf complaining about Ariadne’s poor innocent eyes getting impaired forever.
“Don’t worry, love,” Eames says laying his head on Arthur’s chest, close to purring from the sensation of Arthur’s nails scratching at his scalp, “I promise we are absolutely capable of restraining our ardent lust for each other.”
Ariadne chuckles at Arthur’s grown and reaches out for her phone. “I’m sure you are, Eames. Arthur, though--he does strike me as the one unable to hold himself back from jumping your bones.”
“Yes, it’s too hard to resist his dastardly charm,” Arthur answers drily, meeting Eames’ eyes. They smile at one another, completely forgetting about Ariadne for a moment.
Until the shutter sound of a camera goes off from Ariadne’s side. And then a second time when Arthur turns to scowl at her, giving her the finger.
“I’ll get these framed to give you at your wedding. Maybe I’ll even post them to the Forum so the rest of the dreamsharing community can see, too!” she says and Eames gets deposited gently off from his comfortable perch on Arthur’s chest before Arthur leaps at her.
Eames rolls on his back carefully, braces his head on his elbows and watches as Arthur chases Ariadne’s wily self around the room to get her phone, both of them tripping on the bedding and their meagre belongings littering the floor.
When Saito pokes his head inside to check what the commotion is about, he has to sidestep quickly as Ariadne barrels towards him. Her raucous laughter and Arthur’s light threats raise in volume and get joined by Cobb’s and Yusuf’s voices as they run outside into the mild Spring morning in bare feet.