"Please Darling. There are ladies present." - Captain Blackadder, Blackadder Goes Forth
Arthur stared into his champagne glass, the short stem warm in his fingers as he took another swig of his drink.
Mal's voice travelled across the room and Arthur glanced in her direction. Her head was thrown back in laughter, her arm looped into the crook of a stranger's elbow. The stranger was clearly the source of her good spirits, his head bowed conspiratorially towards hers as they shared an unheard joke. His thigh was flush against hers, his free hand playing with a lock of her hair as he stole another one of her smiles. He was clean-shaven, a strong build hidden beneath tailored silk and hidden eyes that Arthur disliked. Quickly finishing off the dregs of his drink Arthur poured himself another liberal glassful.
"Arthur!" Mal called out to the younger man, her eyes glassy with intoxication. "Come and meet someone!"
Pushing himself off the pillar he had been leaning against Arthur negotiated his way through the milling bodies. Standing in front of Mal he couldn't help but smile, she was quite clearly drunk. Bubbles of laughter were threatening to erupt from her throat and ruin what she was about to say, pressing her hand against her mouth Mal's eyes widened for a moment as she attempted to steady herself. Finally her hand dropped and the warm smile Arthur was so accustomed to spread across her features.
"Meet Eames," Mal laughed, her voice strangely full of pride and only stumbling slightly on the pronunciation. Giving Arthur a wide smile she pushed the stranger towards him, as if she were presenting a parent with a carefully crafted painting and awaited their approval.
"What, no first name?" Arthur questioned tartly, unsure of where the hostility was coming from. Or rather unwilling to admit the source of his new found anger.
Eames gave the point man a crooked smile, "And yours is?"
"Arthur."
"What no last name?" Eames echoed Arthur's earlier statement, laughter softening his words. "Or are you one of those one-word moniker types, like Madonna."
Eames eyebrow rose in subtle challenge and thankfully it was lost to Mal.
"A little rich coming from you," Arthur shot back, his eyes quickly sliding towards Mal, she had suddenly taken a great deal of interest in her champagne bubbles.
Eames laughed, "Perhaps it's a little bit of the public school boy in me."
"I cannot imagine you as a schoolboy," Mal suddenly spoke up, her blue eyes taking in Eames' form, as if trying to picture him in his youth.
"It was all short trousers and knock knees I'm afraid." Eames gave Mal a generous smile, his hand falling over hers as he separated her from her champagne glass. "I was hardly the excellent specimen that you see before you now."
"And you are an excellent specimen indeed," Mal giggled. "But I must leave you two alone for a minute. I think I saw someone I wanted to talk to."
Disengaging herself from Eames, Mal drifted across the room before she was accosted by a group of girls, all equally as tipsy as she was.
Now alone with the stranger, Arthur fixed Eames with a look. His jaw clenching as he tried not to say anything stupid. Eames was clearly Mal's friend but there was something entirely wrong about the Englishman. A thick coat of paint plastered across his face to hide whatever secrets he housed, and behind the veneer there lurked someone wholly untrustworthy.
"Champagne's nice. Dry." Arthur offered somewhat lamely, determined to keep the conversation light. No matter his reservations he wasn't about to hurt Mal.
"Oh so we're going to talk about Taittinger are we?" Eames asked, his voice singsong. "And here I was thinking you were going to slap me with a glove. Call me a coward, but dueling pistols would be my preferred weapons."
"And why would I do that?" Arthur queried as he rubbed his forehead, he could almost feel the vein in the side of his head throbbing.
"Your blatant mistrust for me is rather easy to see. You think you would be protecting Mal, and oddly I have the exact same sentiments regarding you." The corner of Eames' mouth tugged upwards. "That, and judging by the cut of your suit, you seem a little... uptight. All the more willing to uphold some old world standard of honour."
Frowning slightly Arthur chose to overlook Eames' jibe, it would not do to start a brawl in the middle of a birthday party. He was fairly certain Mal loved him, but perhaps not that much.
"No, you're right, I don't trust you." Arthur conceded, the admission hardly a surprise. "But I will try for Mal's sake."
"Oh come now darling, you can do anything you set your mind to." Eames smirked, his grey eyes dancing with mirth. "Now, I seem to have found myself without a drink. Until later Arthur."
"Goodbye Mr Eames." The point man replied, inclining his head ever so slightly in silent promise.
A/N: Just a little one-shot I wanted to write. Hope you enjoyed it, and let me know what you think!