Hey! New story, YAY! :) This is really fun to write, so please review and tell me if it's fun to read! There are gonna be a ton of musical theatre references here- but they are actually part of the plot, I promise, but how they relate to the timeline might be wrong in places. Sorry.

Arthur is about 28, Eames is 33.

Enjoy!

The golden autumn sunlight cast a welcoming glow across their bedroom. It was early morning. And Eames woke up warm, content, and aching in all the right places. The body curled up with his head under the forger's chin snuggled against his chest in sleep, and Eames couldn't help but grin. He was the luckiest man in the world. He reached over a hand, and slid it into Arthur's silky ungelled hair. Carding his fingers through the point man's hair was soothing and sweet, and Eames couldn't help but chuckle at the fact that he used to be intimidated by the man curled up against him. The man that he now owned an apartment with, worked with almost exclusively, slept beside- or on top of- every night. His Arthur.

The point man shifted in his sleep, wrapping an arm around Eames' hips. It didn't really hit him that the other man was awake until he felt him stroking lazy circles over his hipbone.

"Good Morning, Darling." He slid his hand between Arthur's shoulder blades, feeling the man's smile pressed against his chest. The pointman dropped a kiss to his skin before adjusting to look over at him.

"Good morning, Mr. Eames." He pressed his lips for a moment over his jaw before the forger lifted the other's chin to kiss his mouth. They stayed like that for a long time, soaking up each other's presence. Arthur was solid and warm in his arms, and Eames was glad they'd stayed in their London flat a few extra days now that the latest job was over. They were set to return to their flat in San Francisco today, but their plane wasn't boarding for hours. He tightened his arms around the point man, gripping his hips and kissing the dark bruise on the junction of Arthur's neck and shoulder.

And the phone rang.

Arthur groaned, kissing the forger firmly before reaching to the bedside table, grabbing the phone with a pout "who the Hell is even up this early?" He checked the clock: 6:35. A bit early for phone calls. Just a bit.

Arthur looked at the caller and immediately woke up "Hello?"

"... Yeah- little early, but what's up?... What? No, I'm not even there right now, I'm out of the country... Look, I'll be home tonight, so... When do you get in?... Jesus- okay, see you soon." He hung up with a look of complete confusion on his face, and Eames waited for any explanation.

"Well? Darling?" He prompted after a moment, bringing Arthur back to the world.

"My sister's flying in to San Francisco tomorrow morning. She was wondering if she could stay with us."

"Which sister? The good one?" He only asked because Arthur had three sisters, all older than him. Not to mention, only one was worth speaking to, and wanted to speak to Arthur. But he figured it was worth asking.

"Yeah, Maria." Ah, the twin. Arthur's twin sister was truly lovely- or so Eames assumed. She was the only one whom Arthur spoke to or about in the first place, so the forger gave her the benefit of the doubt.

"Is anyone else coming?" Arthur's family- aside from Maria and Arthur's father, David- were rarely spoken of. The younger man was very uncomfortable talking about his mother and other two sisters, and Eames respected that- God knows, he hated discussing his family as well. But he knew the basics.

Arthur was from the upper middle class of Brooklyn, New York. His parents, David and Sharon Wendelin, had four children- Sarah, Rosemary, Maria and Arthur. David was a broadway producer, but the family only started making good money in the late nineties. Sharon and Arthur fought near-constantly and were barely on speaking terms. Same with Sarah and Rose. David, he called on holidays and such, and Arthur and he had a close relationship comparatively. Maria got semi frequent calls, however, and the forger couldn't help but think that it was a little sad that he could gauge Arthur's family life by yearly phone calls. Eames knew Sharon had strong opinions against Arthur's less than Jewish views, and homosexuality. Everything else, any details into his lover's childhood, were less than forthcoming. He was patient, he knew one day stories would start trickling along. And it wasn't like he wanted to discuss his past either.

But, sometimes he felt like he was missing something big, something he should know about his Arthur.

Maybe meeting his sister would help him open up.

"No, it's just her- work seminar, and some 'big news', apparently." Arthur looked genuinely excited, but his smile fell after a moment and he looked up at him with tentative eyes. It made him look so young, Eames felt an overwhelming pang of affection. "Is that okay?" Arthur's voice was small now, and Eames stroked his hair out of his eyes to sooth away the out of character behavior. Even two years after the fact, moving in together still felt like it was a new experience for the both of them, and Arthur was so cautious with every aspect of his life, it only made sense for it to extend to his relationships.

"Of course, Arthur. And I'd love to meet her." He'd like to meet all of Arthur's family, actually. Even the horrid ones. But he didn't want to push that. The younger man smiled.

"She's a little more talkative than me. Maybe a little warmer, too."

"Impossible, Darling. You're the picture of hospitality." The point man playfully stuck out his tongue and rolled his eyes at him. Eames silenced him with a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

He really meant it. He thought Arthur was the gentlest, kindest person he'd ever met and anyone that said differently didn't know him at all.

Arthur rolled his eyes again, kissing his jaw before rolling away and throwing back the covers.

"I'm going to bump up our flight, then we totally need a shower." He sat up with his back to Eames and the man couldn't stop staring.

Miles of pale skin covered the lean muscle of his back, and the golden sunlight of the morning made it glow. He was contemplating pulling Arthur back into bed, laying kisses down the notches of his spine, when the point man stood and walked over to the strewn out piles of last night's clothes. He admired the slight limp in Arthur's step as he slipped Eames' used trousers over his long legs and folded the other garments. He talked about coffee and how Eames should do that while he shifted the flight.

"Get your ass outta bed, Eames. You're meeting my sister today." He called over his shoulder as he pulled one of the forger's big sweaters over his head. It hung on his frame and swamped him, but it was still just so pretty, Arthur looked so hopelessly perfect that Eames was a little scared of how much he loved him.

Sometimes he wondered if Arthur was completely unaware of the effect his looks had on people- Eames specifically.

"Make me coffee and you can join me in the shower, Mr. Eames." Came a sing song voice from the kitchen.

How silly of him: Arthur always knew what he was doing.