A/N : It's incredible how much these two have gotten under my skin! I've been thinking about writing this for a while now, and I'm not even sure if I should publish it, but what the heck. It's Arthur/Eames, so it's obviously slash. If you don't like, don't read it, please! It's the first time I've tried this, so don't go too hard on me, eh?
Please review? It would mean so much to me!
Xo, as always
To my usual Merlin readers : I know this is something entirely different, I hope you'll forgive me for straying! Trying this out, I promise to update my other stories asap!
They had been working for eight days straight, with Ariadne building mazes again and again; moulding streets and cars – entire universes, it would seem. Cobb had been right, she was a true prodigy; and he was thankful she was here. But she hadn't backed him up on his request to work tonight – no one had. New Year's eve had never meant a lot to Arthur and this time, he was sure, would be no different. So why not spend it productively, instead of celebrating that one second in which the date so fundamentally changed? The glance Eames sent his way had said all it needed to, so he'd backed down…eventually.
He still wasn't in the mood for this – this party; not in the very least because for some reason, he'd ended up sitting next to him again, which made it all the more difficult to survive the night unscathed. Sure, he laughed along with them and actually enjoyed himself from time to time, but he was so acutely aware of the hum in the atmosphere, of the heat that made the air between their bodies tremble – that he could never truly relax.
His chair screeched as it was abruptly pushed backwards; every single face in the room became focussed on his own. He hadn't consciously meant to get up, but now that he had, they were all looking at him expectantly. "I need some air," he declared, telling them all he'd had too much to drink. It was as good an excuse as any, right?
Arthur hurriedly left, hearing his own footsteps echo throughout the large silo. He didn't notice the way Eames turned his head to follow his every move, nor the meaningful glance that passed between him and Cobb. He certainly didn't register the fact that only seconds later, the forger rose from his own chair, grabbed both their jackets and followed him outside.
He only realized all that when he suddenly heard Eames' voice beside him. "You know it's a party – not a wake?" When Arthur remained silent, he continued. "You haven't had that much to drink."
Arthur took another swig from the bottle of beer he was holding as if to prove his point. He was clutching it so tightly, Eames thought the glass might break at any given second. "It's pointless, isn't it?"
"Why would it be pointless? Assuming, of course, one day you'll actually tell me what it is."
"Because you don't realize." Eames' brow puckered together in that impossible way that always made him want to…whatever. The question his eyes were asking was impossible not to answer – he'd never actually had the opportunity before. Well, that was a lie – except he'd always been too damn scared to speak his mind. "None of it matters when you're in Vienna, or in Prague…Mombassa for all I care.."
He knew he should keep quiet and let Arthur speak his mind – for once! – but he couldn't help himself; the words were spoken before he even realized he would. "You've been checking up on me?"
"…but when you're actually here?" Arthur forced the hot breath he'd been holding onto for so long to slip through his lips; the warmth mingled with the ice cold outside air and formed a little cloud; he could touch it if he wanted to. "I completely lose my balance." His eyes drifted to the other man's face, studying every single bit of it – except those damn blue eyes. The look they held could break him. Would break him, probably. His trance was broken when Eames rolled his lips into his mouth. "I never lose my balance," he continued, staring out into the night. "I never mess up."
"Why do you suppose that is?" At any other time, he'd have thought Eames was teasing him again. However, the question did actually sound like one; like he honestly wanted to know, wanted to figure out the impossible puzzle Arthur kept presenting him with. The latter didn't exactly know if it regarded the first or the second part of his statement (that, come to think of it, sounded pretty idiotic, even to his own ears), but he chose to take the safer option.
"I don't have any imagination." He laughed. "Not like you do, anyway. I plan, Eames."
"You're a boring stick in the mud." His lips curled into a slow, tantalizing smile. Arthur tilted his head in silent agreement. It was then that he finally realized what the problem was. What had been Arthur's problem all along: it was as if he challenged everything Arthur knew to be true, everything he had depended on his entire life. Eames completely rocked the boat that had kept him safe, he mocked the way he'd steered it. He took a step closer, almost feeling the heat Arthur's skin was radiating. He so desperately wanted to touch, but refrained. "I'm sorry."
Arthur laughed, before drinking again. "Yeah." With a bravado he didn't even know he possessed, he finally turned to look his companion in the eye. They didn't speak for a few minutes, before Eames finally decided to break the blessed silence. "You must be cold."
"I'm alright."
Suddenly one of them reached out – for the life of him, he couldn't remember which one had acted first – and Eames' hand was cupping his face, his lips nearly – but not yet – touching Arthur's. Hurriedly, Arthur bridged the remaining distance. He felt a slight tremor ripping through his body when they kissed; it mingled with the raging fire. Eames' breath was hard and demanding against his cheeks while he hungrily attacked Arthur's mouth; their bodies seemingly drawn even closer to each other, their hands roaming every single inch of available skin. It was both war and wonder; and he loved every single second of it.
They jumped apart when the fireworks began. The horribly loud (and dangerously close) sound that was so reminiscent of a gunshot seemed to trigger something inside them; like a kick that woke them from their slumber. Just like that the moment was gone. They turned simultaneously, regarding the sky alight with red and green – purple and golden stars falling to the ground.
Loud cheering could be heard coming from inside, where their party had officially begun celebrating; but between the two of them, not a word was spoken, until : "I never lose control."
Eames smiled at him. "You should do it more often. It suits you." He made to leave and paused by the doorway, looking at the way Arthur's silhouette was painted against the sky.
"Happy new year, Pointman."
So? What did you think? Please tell me (if) you liked it! Reviews mean the world to me, you have no idea! I'll even give you virtual cookies and cake! Also, I might go on from here and write a real Arthur & Eames story, that would deal with what happens next and other dramatic things. What do you think - yay? nay?
Xo, as always