FIC: Three Times Arthur Went Out on a Date With Eames, and One Time They Stayed In || PG-13
Title: Three Times Arthur Went Out on a Date With Eames, and One Time They Stayed In
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Word Count: 930
Summary: What it says on the tin.
A/N: Two month hiatus and then I come back with this. Oh, self. By which I mean, the sole basis for me writing this fic is that I had a dream that someone at inception_kink asked for Cinderella!AU - I'd pretty much written the first snippet before I realized I was dreaming, I kid you not.
*
1.
Arthur stormed in, slamming the door shut behind him. His tie was askew and he was missing a shoe. He was also wearing a tiara.
"So." Ariadne said from where she was sitting on the sofa with a textbook on her lap. "Your date with Eames went well, then?"
Before Arthur could answer, the doorbell rang. Yanking the door open, he glared at Eames, who was leaning against the wall next to the door, grinning.
"Might this fit you, Milord?" Eames asked, holding out his hand, a shoe dangling from his fingers.
Arthur snatched the shoe and slammed the door in his face.
"This isn't how the fairy tale goes, Arthur!" Eames shouted through the door.
2.
"I'll come with you, he said," Arthur muttered to himself, kneeling to mop up the spilled cranberry juice from the living room carpet. "It'll be fine, he said; it might even be fun."
There was an almighty crash from the kitchen, followed by Phillipa's giggles and the sound of Eames laughing uncontrollably.
"Goddamnit, Eames," he shouted.
"Uncle Arthur said a bad word!" Phillipa squealed, delighted, and Arthur closed his eyes. Dom was going to kill him.
"Yeah, Arthur," Eames called out, sounding like he was close to breaking out in a fit of hysterics. "No cookies for you!"
"Cookies!" James yelled from where he was spinning around in circles in the hall separating the kitchen from the living room.
"No cookies before dinner," Arthur said sternly, glaring down at the sodden carpet. "Eames? What's that smell?"
"Dinner!" Phillipa announced gleefully and Eames said, "Ooops."
Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.
"The cookies look great, though! Only slightly misshapen," Eames said brightly.
James stopped spinning and promptly threw up.
3.
"This really wasn't in the plans," Eames said remorsefully. Considering their position, Arthur was inclined to believe him. Regrettably, it didn't make him feel any better.
"Is it really so much to ask," he wanted to know, "to have one date without interruptions, or emergencies, or people shooting at us?"
"We're just special that way, I suppose," Eames said, peering down. "If it's any consolation, the last time I was here was more than five years ago. I really didn't think they'd still remember me."
Arthur resisted the urge to kick him off the tree.
+
"I'm not playing," Arthur repeated, slowly, and Eames huffed out a laugh.
"Come now," he said. "What's a little roleplay between adults? Don't make me play both parts."
"Eames," Arthur started to say, exasperated, and Eames grinned, interrupting him by pushing him flat on his back on the bed.
"Arthur," he said, his voice pleasant as he braced himself on his forearms, looking down at Arthur with a glint in his eyes.
"Eames," Arthur warned, but it was too late.
"My, what intense eyes you have," Eames said, raising an eyebrow. "That's you, by the way. Then I say, 'All the better to gaze upon you with, my dear.'"
"Seriously," Arthur said, cracking up a little.
"Now, now, do try to play along," Eames chided, sitting up a little and trailing his fingers along Arthur's arms until he could wrap his hands around his wrists and pin them to the bed. "Oh, Mr. Eames, what wide shoulders you have."
"I don't sound anything like that," Arthur said, making a face. "Also, you realize this is a disturbingly narcissistic exercise even for you, right?"
"Hush," Eames commanded, giving him a quick kiss on the lips. "Where was I? Oh, shoulders. All the better for you to hold on to while I make fierce love to you, ploughing the sweet depths of your tunnel with my --"
"Christ, Eames, shut up," Arthur said, horrified. "Shut up before I can never have sex with you ever again."
"Too much?" Eames asked, feigning innocence. Arthur bared his teeth and Eames sighed. "And I was just getting to the good part, too," he added in a mournful tone, and Arthur twisted a hand free just so he could hit Eames on the shoulder.
"Ow, ow," Eames laughed, recapturing the offending limb. "You vicious thing," he said, sounding so charmed that Arthur felt embarrassed on his behalf.
"Come on," he said, twisting a little under Eames' weight. "Can't we just --"
"My," Eames said, raising his voice and smiling sharply. "What a big mouth you have," he continued, gathering Arthur's wrists in one hand and pressing the fingers of his free hand against Arthur's lips to delay the inevitable protests. "And then I say," he said, lowering his voice and leaning in until their noses brushed, "all the better for me to eat you with."
He waggled his eyebrows at Arthur and, right, that was quite enough of that. Arthur shifted, twisted, and flipped them over.
"You are a sick, sick man," he told Eames. He sounded, perhaps, more fond than was warranted, just then. Eames relaxed against the mattress like he'd never wanted to be anywhere else, dragging his palms slowly over Arthur's thighs.
"Only the best for you," he said, pushing his hips up against Arthur's in a lazy roll. Arthur shook his head, amused despite himself. Still --
"No more acting out fairy tales, in bed or otherwise" he decreed, and Eames had the nerve to look disappointed, with a side order of pleading.
"But Arthur, darling, I had a whole scenario for Sleeping Beauty all thought out," he mourned. "You'd make a lovely --"
Arthur picked up a pillow and Eames shut up abruptly, forced to defend himself from a vicious attack against his person.
He was laughing the whole time, too, the bastard.
***
Thank You for reading!
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Word Count: 930
Summary: What it says on the tin.
A/N: Two month hiatus and then I come back with this. Oh, self. By which I mean, the sole basis for me writing this fic is that I had a dream that someone at inception_kink asked for Cinderella!AU - I'd pretty much written the first snippet before I realized I was dreaming, I kid you not.
*
1.
Arthur stormed in, slamming the door shut behind him. His tie was askew and he was missing a shoe. He was also wearing a tiara.
"So." Ariadne said from where she was sitting on the sofa with a textbook on her lap. "Your date with Eames went well, then?"
Before Arthur could answer, the doorbell rang. Yanking the door open, he glared at Eames, who was leaning against the wall next to the door, grinning.
"Might this fit you, Milord?" Eames asked, holding out his hand, a shoe dangling from his fingers.
Arthur snatched the shoe and slammed the door in his face.
"This isn't how the fairy tale goes, Arthur!" Eames shouted through the door.
2.
"I'll come with you, he said," Arthur muttered to himself, kneeling to mop up the spilled cranberry juice from the living room carpet. "It'll be fine, he said; it might even be fun."
There was an almighty crash from the kitchen, followed by Phillipa's giggles and the sound of Eames laughing uncontrollably.
"Goddamnit, Eames," he shouted.
"Uncle Arthur said a bad word!" Phillipa squealed, delighted, and Arthur closed his eyes. Dom was going to kill him.
"Yeah, Arthur," Eames called out, sounding like he was close to breaking out in a fit of hysterics. "No cookies for you!"
"Cookies!" James yelled from where he was spinning around in circles in the hall separating the kitchen from the living room.
"No cookies before dinner," Arthur said sternly, glaring down at the sodden carpet. "Eames? What's that smell?"
"Dinner!" Phillipa announced gleefully and Eames said, "Ooops."
Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.
"The cookies look great, though! Only slightly misshapen," Eames said brightly.
James stopped spinning and promptly threw up.
3.
"This really wasn't in the plans," Eames said remorsefully. Considering their position, Arthur was inclined to believe him. Regrettably, it didn't make him feel any better.
"Is it really so much to ask," he wanted to know, "to have one date without interruptions, or emergencies, or people shooting at us?"
"We're just special that way, I suppose," Eames said, peering down. "If it's any consolation, the last time I was here was more than five years ago. I really didn't think they'd still remember me."
Arthur resisted the urge to kick him off the tree.
+
"I'm not playing," Arthur repeated, slowly, and Eames huffed out a laugh.
"Come now," he said. "What's a little roleplay between adults? Don't make me play both parts."
"Eames," Arthur started to say, exasperated, and Eames grinned, interrupting him by pushing him flat on his back on the bed.
"Arthur," he said, his voice pleasant as he braced himself on his forearms, looking down at Arthur with a glint in his eyes.
"Eames," Arthur warned, but it was too late.
"My, what intense eyes you have," Eames said, raising an eyebrow. "That's you, by the way. Then I say, 'All the better to gaze upon you with, my dear.'"
"Seriously," Arthur said, cracking up a little.
"Now, now, do try to play along," Eames chided, sitting up a little and trailing his fingers along Arthur's arms until he could wrap his hands around his wrists and pin them to the bed. "Oh, Mr. Eames, what wide shoulders you have."
"I don't sound anything like that," Arthur said, making a face. "Also, you realize this is a disturbingly narcissistic exercise even for you, right?"
"Hush," Eames commanded, giving him a quick kiss on the lips. "Where was I? Oh, shoulders. All the better for you to hold on to while I make fierce love to you, ploughing the sweet depths of your tunnel with my --"
"Christ, Eames, shut up," Arthur said, horrified. "Shut up before I can never have sex with you ever again."
"Too much?" Eames asked, feigning innocence. Arthur bared his teeth and Eames sighed. "And I was just getting to the good part, too," he added in a mournful tone, and Arthur twisted a hand free just so he could hit Eames on the shoulder.
"Ow, ow," Eames laughed, recapturing the offending limb. "You vicious thing," he said, sounding so charmed that Arthur felt embarrassed on his behalf.
"Come on," he said, twisting a little under Eames' weight. "Can't we just --"
"My," Eames said, raising his voice and smiling sharply. "What a big mouth you have," he continued, gathering Arthur's wrists in one hand and pressing the fingers of his free hand against Arthur's lips to delay the inevitable protests. "And then I say," he said, lowering his voice and leaning in until their noses brushed, "all the better for me to eat you with."
He waggled his eyebrows at Arthur and, right, that was quite enough of that. Arthur shifted, twisted, and flipped them over.
"You are a sick, sick man," he told Eames. He sounded, perhaps, more fond than was warranted, just then. Eames relaxed against the mattress like he'd never wanted to be anywhere else, dragging his palms slowly over Arthur's thighs.
"Only the best for you," he said, pushing his hips up against Arthur's in a lazy roll. Arthur shook his head, amused despite himself. Still --
"No more acting out fairy tales, in bed or otherwise" he decreed, and Eames had the nerve to look disappointed, with a side order of pleading.
"But Arthur, darling, I had a whole scenario for Sleeping Beauty all thought out," he mourned. "You'd make a lovely --"
Arthur picked up a pillow and Eames shut up abruptly, forced to defend himself from a vicious attack against his person.
He was laughing the whole time, too, the bastard.
***
Thank You for reading!