"What exactly is so charming about this 'Just Dance 2' game that causes you to devote your life to it?" Arthur asks Eames, lounging on the couch as he observes him shimmying to the beat of "Toxic" by Britney Spears (only this version was done by a not-nearly-as-talented cover artist).
"I honestly couldn't tell you," Eames huffs distractedly, his eyes more focused on the screen than Arthur has ever seen them. "All I know is that I've never been more enthralled to dance to Katy Perry."
"Eames, are you getting out of breath?" the point man teases, smirking at his back.
"It's much more physically taxing than it looks, darling."
Arthur raises an eyebrow. "I've seen you run from projections for hours without getting winded."
"Yes, and that's in a dream," he says, his arms trembling from the graceless flailing movements. "Different rules apply."
"Or maybe you're just becoming an old man."
The song ends. Eames' meaningless dance points climb on the screen. His face seems grim from observing the results.
"Alright, if you think you're so perfect at everything, let's see your moves, Janet Jackson!" He turns around to look at him with a shit-eating grin, beckoning Arthur to the challenge.
"I couldn't at least be Michael?"
"Oh but Arthur, you can be Michael!" Eames replies, "You can be any one of the Jackson 5 if you play 'I Want You Back' for me."
Arthur crosses his arms. "I wouldn't want to come between you two."
"Arthur, love," Eames responds, reaching for a drawer in their entertainment center, "I have two Wiimotes."
Ha. Wiimote. Those folks at Nintendo are clever bastards with names.
With a sigh, knowing he wasn't going to get out of this one, he takes the controller in hand and slips on the wrist strap, one thing he notices that Eames neglects. He keeps waiting for the one time he lets the seemingly harmless piece of plastic bust their plasma screen. He saw it on the news once.
He gets up on his feet. "I agree to this as long as we do anything but the Jackson 5."
Eames does everything to show his glee with the exception of happy dancing. Arthur knows he wouldn't be missing out on any spectacular moves, though, considering how unattractive his Just Dancing was.
Eames promptly scrolls through the song list, Arthur completely at his mercy due to him being second player. And of course he passes right on by Franz Ferdinand, who he knows Arthur loves, and takes it straight to Avril Lavigne.
Eames can feel the glare on him before he even turns to look. "This one is a duet song, pet. Ol' Francis isn't. This will be much more fun."
"At least Franz wouldn't cause the loss of mental function," he mutters.
Great, to make it worse the Avril song in question is "Girlfriend." Not even classic Avril.
As Eames presses start, Arthur groans. He also notices how his boogying avatar girl is wearing clothes of the stereotypical nerd, whereas Eames' is some sort of punk rocker.
"Is this some sort of metaphor for the way I dress?"
"Do try to keep up, darling," Eames warns him as he points his Wiimote at Arthur.
Arthur flinches and puts up his fists defensively out of instinct before he realizes that was Eames' dance move and not an attack. "God, at least put your wrist strap on!"
"Too late sweetheart, sorry."
Arthur goes through a series of moves, most of them including sweeping arm gestures and girlish little bopping, all of them set to a soundtrack that sounds like an annoying ring in his ears. Not only does he have to worry about which direction he's supposed to be facing, but he has to be wary of where Eames' flopping arms are and keep completely out of the vicinity of them. By the time they are supposed to start throwing faux punches at each other, he fears for his life.
"I'm done," he announces, slipping off his wrist strap and setting the Wiimote on the table.
"What?" Eames protests, "The song isn't over!"
"I don't want to explain a black eye to Cobb," says Arthur, taking his rightful spot back on the couch, "Not when the cause is something this embarrassing."
"Fine! I don't need you!" Eames grabs Arthur's former controller and starts trying to do both dancing parts at once.
Arthur had been a good boy. He hadn't even giggled for the past two hours he had watched Eames hop about like a spastic puppet.
But this…this was way too funny to hold back his guffaws.
Eames, however, doesn't seem fazed, just as enthusiastic and determined as he has been.
He is also completely breathless by the time he finishes. "That, huff, was rather, puff, rude of you to laugh."
"You say that because you aren't witnessing it," Arthur defends. He pauses to take in the visual for a moment, his lover glistening with sweat and his shoulder heaving from how heavy he is breathing. He grimaces. "You look like you just had sex."
His word filter failed this time around.
"Are you jealous of a Wii game, my dear?" Eames asks, looking smug.
"I could give it to you better than a stupid piece of mindless technology could ever do," says Arthur, his voice lowering and sounding on the edge of seduction.
"Is that a proposition?" Eames continues on, bending to place his hands on either side of Arthur's head on the back of the couch.
"Want to find out?" His voice is like gravel now.
Eames' face leans into him, his lips just barely ghosting against his and his eyes fluttering closed. "Maybe later," he whispers, pulling away to face the television and quickly picks Ke$ha next.
Arthur groans.