After Fischer's inception, Arthur still worked too long. He wore the same suits, used the same brand of hair gel, and still needed specificity.
And yet… in the morning, Arthur fixed two coffees instead of one. He owned three extra towels, and kept his flat twelve degrees warmer.
And when Arthur came home, he wasn't alone.
"I got Chinese food, that alright?"
"You told me no cash today. I thought you were with Gocmez - he's mugged children for pennies."
"I never said I bought it with my own money, love," Eames appeared from behind the doorway, gleefully untucking Arthur's shirt from his pants. Arthur paused in taking off his jacket, leaning into Eames' broad chest behind him. "I played a few rounds of pool, conned a few blokes."
Arthur walked over the take-out.
It took two more jobs, three heated arguments, and four instances of near death for Arthur to try again.
But here they were.
Arthur turned around, kissing Eames squarely on the mouth. Eames was more than receptive, but Arthur broke it off.
He was hungry.
"I love you Eames." Arthur fell into a seat.
Eames slid next to him, smirking.
"I know, darling."
A/N:
Prompt: post canon
WC: Under 200 words