Inception: Eames/Arthur, PG-13
Title: Goodnight Sweetheart
Fandom: Inception
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Eames/Arthur
Warnings: none
Summary: KINK MEME FILL: Arthur: I'm going to bed. Eames: ...Can I join you?
Goodnight Sweetheart
Once they’d entered the hotel room they’d be sharing, Eames immediately went to rifle through the mini bar. He did this, though, Arthur noted, with expertly controlled annoyance, only after dumping his bags at the end of the couch.
Leaving the other man to his explorations, Arthur took his own bag to the adjacent bedroom where he first inspected the beds. Two of them, as they’d asked for, freshly made and adorned with tasteful covers. It was the kind of hotel Arthur appreciated, clean and modern.
Taking his pyjamas from his suitcase, Arthur paused a moment, contemplating the bottoms he was holding. They were dark blue with a subtle pattern, very soft, expensive. He had a matching button down pyjama top to go with them. Even as Arthur thought about this, he found himself already packing the pyjamas back into the suitcase. The last time he had shared a room with Eames, the other man had spent at least two hours making fun of Arthur’s choice of shampoo. It just wouldn’t do to have the same occur over a perfectly clean, soft and expensive pyjama set.
Allowing himself a silent sigh, Arthur opted for a simple pair of boxer shorts instead and headed for the bathroom.
In the suite’s living room, Eames had unearthed an obscenely expensive bottle of brandy from the mini bar and was busy filling some of it into a glass.
“Want some, darling?” Eames asked cheerfully as Arthur walked past him towards the bathroom.
Arthur gave the amber liquid one pointed look and shook his head.
“No thank you,” he said. “I’m going to take a shower.”
Arthur took his time there, letting the hot water work out the stiffness in his back, letting it interplay with the herbal-scented shower gel the hotel provided to calm his nerves. They had a few days before their next job and preparation for it was almost complete. Even Arthur couldn’t deny that once in a while he needed to just wind down for a few hours.
Having washed his hair, Arthur got changed into his boxers. He re-entered the next room to find that Eames had made himself comfortable on the couch. Having obviously found the remote for the TV, Eames was now watching some god-awful late-night talk show.
Eames glanced up from the screen once to give Arthur a blatant, leering once-over, but Arthur left the other man to it, ignored his gaze and tried hard not to roll his eyes as he took his things back to the bedroom.
He emerged, then, with his laptop, setting it up on the free table in the living room. The TV programmed Eames was watching was filling the room with mindless noise, but Arthur had got good at tuning such things out. It came with the territory of needing to maintain flawless concentration on a regular basis. Besides, there’d be some emails he’d have to answer and there was information that was more reliable double-checked.
Arthur busied himself with these tasks until he was interrupted by a loud snort of laughter from the couch where Eames had been lounging. Arthur looked up in time to see the TV click off and Eames sinking back into the upholstery, still chuckling.
“Load ‘a nonsense, isn’t it?” Eames asked, referring to the talk show, Arthur assumed. Arthur simply raised an eyebrow at that and let his gaze wander from Eames to the bottle of brandy on the table. It was practically empty.
“Eames,” Arthur began warningly. Everything, from Eames’ slurred and languid speech, to his slouching posture and way too bright eyes, screamed ‘drunk’.
“What?” Eames countered, blinking.
“Did you- ,” Arthur looked at his computer clock, “drink all that within the last two hours?”
Eames frowned just ever so slightly, a drunken frown that, in Arthur’s opinion, made the other man look more like a confused puppy and not so much like the sleek bastard he usually was.
“Mh, yeah. Why?”
Arthur sighed and turned to shut down his computer. He was on his feet the moment the machine started running updates.
“Because now, you’re drunk.”
“’m not,” Eames mumbled, even as he put his hand to his stomach in light of a small hiccup. The confused-puppy-frown was back in an instant and Arthur wasn’t in the mood to deal with this. He was tired.
“Whatever, I’m going to bed,” Arthur informed Eames resolutely with every intention of leaving Eames behind to pass out on the couch.
“Can I come with you?”
The question took Arthur completely by surprise, making him pause to look back at Eames. The computer had shut down, making the room look a little too dark, which it really was and leaving Eames sitting there, empty bottle before him. He looked lonely. He sounded lonely and damn, the man’s eyes were far too bright and too damn innocent-looking when he was under the influence. It was thoughts like these that made Arthur seriously question whether he’d been the one to empty an entire bottle of expensive brandy in just under two hours. The only consolation he had for this ridiculousness was that he knew Eames would have the mother of all hangovers in the morning.
Sighing, Arthur conceded.
“Fine,” he grumbled, going over and helping Eames heave his broad form off the couch. They slowly, haltingly, made their way to the bedroom. Eames had to be pretty drunk, the way he was balancing the majority of his weight on Arthur. Arthur was about to comment on that, but they’d finally made it to the bedroom.
“Here we are,” Arthur said, leaning the other man against the wall. He then went to retrieve Eames’ bag from the other room, letting it drop at Eames’ feet.
“I trust you can get changed by yourself,” Arthur said. He really didn’t fancy having to extract Eames’ bulk from his clothes. Eames just nodded lethargically:
“Thank you, dear.”
Arthur rolled his eyes, flopped onto his bed and told Eames to switch the light off when he was done.
The light did click off after a few minutes of rustling and drunken mutters of “bugger”, but eventually silence reigned and Arthur was waiting for the sound of Eames climbing into bed. And Eames did. Into his bed. Arthur’s bed.
“What the hell?”
Arthur had to scoot a little to prevent Eames from sitting on his legs. By that time, Eames had already flopped to the mattress, a dead weight.
“Eames, what are you doing?” Arthur asked in a clipped tone.
“Said I could come with you,” Eames mumbled, entirely too close to Arthur’s ear. The sudden proximity nearly made Arthur jump.
“Yes, damnit, your bed, Eames. Your bed,” Arthur hissed. Eames simply made an unintelligible sound before falling silent.
Arthur lay there for a few moments, body stiff as a board, hardly daring to move. He thought Eames had probably finally passed out, so he’d give it a few more minutes and then move to the free bed.
Arthurs plan was, however, thwarted when a moment later a heavy arm landed across his middle and he felt himself being pulled against the soft heat of Eames’ body. Arthur prepared to struggle, but Eames rolled over, wrapping his arm around Arthur completely. Eames’ face nuzzled into the side of Arthur’s neck and he gave a muffled mumble of what sounded like “Goodnight, love.”
Then, Eames seemed to truly fall asleep and Arthur waited with baited breath for a few more moments before slowly letting his body relax. Relax into the bed, into that comforting warmth of someone sharing it with him and into that strong embrace.
“Goodnight, Eames,” Arthur said with a small sigh that signified more relaxation than anything else. Maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t so bad after all.
Fandom: Inception
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Eames/Arthur
Warnings: none
Summary: KINK MEME FILL: Arthur: I'm going to bed. Eames: ...Can I join you?
Goodnight Sweetheart
Once they’d entered the hotel room they’d be sharing, Eames immediately went to rifle through the mini bar. He did this, though, Arthur noted, with expertly controlled annoyance, only after dumping his bags at the end of the couch.
Leaving the other man to his explorations, Arthur took his own bag to the adjacent bedroom where he first inspected the beds. Two of them, as they’d asked for, freshly made and adorned with tasteful covers. It was the kind of hotel Arthur appreciated, clean and modern.
Taking his pyjamas from his suitcase, Arthur paused a moment, contemplating the bottoms he was holding. They were dark blue with a subtle pattern, very soft, expensive. He had a matching button down pyjama top to go with them. Even as Arthur thought about this, he found himself already packing the pyjamas back into the suitcase. The last time he had shared a room with Eames, the other man had spent at least two hours making fun of Arthur’s choice of shampoo. It just wouldn’t do to have the same occur over a perfectly clean, soft and expensive pyjama set.
Allowing himself a silent sigh, Arthur opted for a simple pair of boxer shorts instead and headed for the bathroom.
In the suite’s living room, Eames had unearthed an obscenely expensive bottle of brandy from the mini bar and was busy filling some of it into a glass.
“Want some, darling?” Eames asked cheerfully as Arthur walked past him towards the bathroom.
Arthur gave the amber liquid one pointed look and shook his head.
“No thank you,” he said. “I’m going to take a shower.”
Arthur took his time there, letting the hot water work out the stiffness in his back, letting it interplay with the herbal-scented shower gel the hotel provided to calm his nerves. They had a few days before their next job and preparation for it was almost complete. Even Arthur couldn’t deny that once in a while he needed to just wind down for a few hours.
Having washed his hair, Arthur got changed into his boxers. He re-entered the next room to find that Eames had made himself comfortable on the couch. Having obviously found the remote for the TV, Eames was now watching some god-awful late-night talk show.
Eames glanced up from the screen once to give Arthur a blatant, leering once-over, but Arthur left the other man to it, ignored his gaze and tried hard not to roll his eyes as he took his things back to the bedroom.
He emerged, then, with his laptop, setting it up on the free table in the living room. The TV programmed Eames was watching was filling the room with mindless noise, but Arthur had got good at tuning such things out. It came with the territory of needing to maintain flawless concentration on a regular basis. Besides, there’d be some emails he’d have to answer and there was information that was more reliable double-checked.
Arthur busied himself with these tasks until he was interrupted by a loud snort of laughter from the couch where Eames had been lounging. Arthur looked up in time to see the TV click off and Eames sinking back into the upholstery, still chuckling.
“Load ‘a nonsense, isn’t it?” Eames asked, referring to the talk show, Arthur assumed. Arthur simply raised an eyebrow at that and let his gaze wander from Eames to the bottle of brandy on the table. It was practically empty.
“Eames,” Arthur began warningly. Everything, from Eames’ slurred and languid speech, to his slouching posture and way too bright eyes, screamed ‘drunk’.
“What?” Eames countered, blinking.
“Did you- ,” Arthur looked at his computer clock, “drink all that within the last two hours?”
Eames frowned just ever so slightly, a drunken frown that, in Arthur’s opinion, made the other man look more like a confused puppy and not so much like the sleek bastard he usually was.
“Mh, yeah. Why?”
Arthur sighed and turned to shut down his computer. He was on his feet the moment the machine started running updates.
“Because now, you’re drunk.”
“’m not,” Eames mumbled, even as he put his hand to his stomach in light of a small hiccup. The confused-puppy-frown was back in an instant and Arthur wasn’t in the mood to deal with this. He was tired.
“Whatever, I’m going to bed,” Arthur informed Eames resolutely with every intention of leaving Eames behind to pass out on the couch.
“Can I come with you?”
The question took Arthur completely by surprise, making him pause to look back at Eames. The computer had shut down, making the room look a little too dark, which it really was and leaving Eames sitting there, empty bottle before him. He looked lonely. He sounded lonely and damn, the man’s eyes were far too bright and too damn innocent-looking when he was under the influence. It was thoughts like these that made Arthur seriously question whether he’d been the one to empty an entire bottle of expensive brandy in just under two hours. The only consolation he had for this ridiculousness was that he knew Eames would have the mother of all hangovers in the morning.
Sighing, Arthur conceded.
“Fine,” he grumbled, going over and helping Eames heave his broad form off the couch. They slowly, haltingly, made their way to the bedroom. Eames had to be pretty drunk, the way he was balancing the majority of his weight on Arthur. Arthur was about to comment on that, but they’d finally made it to the bedroom.
“Here we are,” Arthur said, leaning the other man against the wall. He then went to retrieve Eames’ bag from the other room, letting it drop at Eames’ feet.
“I trust you can get changed by yourself,” Arthur said. He really didn’t fancy having to extract Eames’ bulk from his clothes. Eames just nodded lethargically:
“Thank you, dear.”
Arthur rolled his eyes, flopped onto his bed and told Eames to switch the light off when he was done.
The light did click off after a few minutes of rustling and drunken mutters of “bugger”, but eventually silence reigned and Arthur was waiting for the sound of Eames climbing into bed. And Eames did. Into his bed. Arthur’s bed.
“What the hell?”
Arthur had to scoot a little to prevent Eames from sitting on his legs. By that time, Eames had already flopped to the mattress, a dead weight.
“Eames, what are you doing?” Arthur asked in a clipped tone.
“Said I could come with you,” Eames mumbled, entirely too close to Arthur’s ear. The sudden proximity nearly made Arthur jump.
“Yes, damnit, your bed, Eames. Your bed,” Arthur hissed. Eames simply made an unintelligible sound before falling silent.
Arthur lay there for a few moments, body stiff as a board, hardly daring to move. He thought Eames had probably finally passed out, so he’d give it a few more minutes and then move to the free bed.
Arthurs plan was, however, thwarted when a moment later a heavy arm landed across his middle and he felt himself being pulled against the soft heat of Eames’ body. Arthur prepared to struggle, but Eames rolled over, wrapping his arm around Arthur completely. Eames’ face nuzzled into the side of Arthur’s neck and he gave a muffled mumble of what sounded like “Goodnight, love.”
Then, Eames seemed to truly fall asleep and Arthur waited with baited breath for a few more moments before slowly letting his body relax. Relax into the bed, into that comforting warmth of someone sharing it with him and into that strong embrace.
“Goodnight, Eames,” Arthur said with a small sigh that signified more relaxation than anything else. Maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t so bad after all.