Everything in Arthur's life had been very neat. Even when he was he was young. His parents had simply believed they were lucky. His room was always spotless, he never had to be told twice to bathe or brush his teeth. The only nuisance they found was his insistence that his clothes be wrinkle free at all times. And he despised t-shirts and jeans. But they conceded to him on the point of his wardrobe. He was, after all, a peculiar child, but wonderful all the same.
These were traits that followed him into adulthood, his preference for cleanliness and tidiness. His apartment appeared relatively unlived in and bare, as he didn't care to have chachkis or useless items around. And his appearance was exactly what you'd expect as well, always impeccably dressed and not a hair out of place. And his emotional state? Well, some might argue Arthur was incapable of feeling any emotion at all. Others described him as cold and uncaring. A few went so far as to compare the young man to a robot.
And those descriptions didn't change. Not even when Eames came into his life. Well, they didn't change at first at least. To say their relationship was a slow progression was kind.
When they'd first met, Arthur couldn't stand the man. Everything about him was utterly ridiculous. He was loud and overbearing. And he was large. He made Arthur feel small and delicate and Arthur was anything but. And Eames? Was that even an actual name? He was a relentless flirt. And crass in his flirtations too. And for some unknown reason, this giant of a man found some sick pleasure in focusing in on Arthur.
It was as if Eames knew everything about himself that annoyed Arthur and used it against him. He'd crowd Arthur anytime he was beside the point man, making him feel even smaller. He'd project his voice more. And he'd single Arthur out for his flirtations whenever they were together. And Arthur had a sneaking suspicion that Eames tried all the harder than to be as crass as possible. It often caused a scowl to set on Arthur's lips and daggers to shoot from his eyes. And the man just always seemed to be right there with Arthur whenever they worked together.
Arthur wasn't sure when it changed. But somewhere along the line it had. Loud and overbearing slowly transformed into passion. Flirtation was actually the confidence Eames felt. And what was so bad about being large? Muscles were nothing to scoff at. They could be rather… intriguing sometimes. And suddenly his presence was no longer bothersome, but rather comforting.
But Arthur knew nothing could ever come of what he felt for Eames. They worked together and he wouldn't allow himself to be unprofessional. Arthur knew they both had reputations in the industry to protect. And the people they often worked with weren't the kind of people that should be trusted. If anybody found out that there was something between the two, it would only serve as another way to hurt one of them. So Arthur behaved as he always did, scowling and shooting daggers from his eyes at Eames.
But it all came to a head when they worked together for Saito.
It wasn't an ideal situation. It wasn't what he ever expected to happen. Then again, in their field of work, one couldn't always rely on expectations. And it wasn't as if Arthur had never seen Eames being shot at. Perhaps it was the fact that none of them had done anything like Inception before mixed with the fear he felt at Eames being shot at and the confliction over his feelings for the man. Arthur didn't know for sure.
What he did know was that his panic caused his throat swell and lips to smash together in an angry line. How he managed to get them out of the situation, work the car around the flying bullets and other cars, he wasn't sure. But the next he knew was asking, more like demanding to know, if Eames was all right. His own well-being be damned. And the relief he felt when Eames said he was ok was indescribable. Of course, he felt bad that Saito didn't get away without a scratch.
That whole job was a disaster. Cobb keeping information from them. Fisher's security. Mistake after mistake. Challenge after challenge. It felt like it'd never end. And all the while, Arthur could only think was how his and Eames last moment together couldn't be Arthur slipping the needle into the other's arm. That couldn't be how it was meant to end between them.
And then it was over. The job was done. Finished. Less than perfectly, but the goal was met.
After everybody held their breath as Cobb crossed through security, everyone proceeded their own ways. Cobb, of course, went home immediately. Ariadne went back to school. Yusuf went somewhere or other. And Fisher was none the wiser.
But Eames. Where would he be off to? What was next for him?
Arthur stood beside the conveyer belt, waiting for his bag, and glanced over to Eames. The large man was looking out the window. His left hand was in his pocket. And the movement in it told the point man he was fidgeting with the red poker chip. Arthur managed to look back just in time to snatch his bag. And as he began to leave, he felt somebody's presence beside him.
"Fancy a drink with me, Darling?" In their years of having known each other, this wasn't an unusual request. Eames had asked him many times. And the very first time, Arthur had taken him up on it. Only to be proven he'd made the wrong choice. It was before he had any opinion of Eames. They hadn't known each other long enough for Arthur to detest him. And certainly not long enough to have fallen for the forger. But that night had a lot to do with the detest itself.
They'd managed to have had a few drinks. Enough that Arthur seemed to let the point man mask slip a little, but not so much that either of them were belligerent. That was when Eames took it upon himself to begin flirting with Arthur. In his fuzzy headed state, the innuendos went unnoticed. As did the light touch to his hand. And the way the Eames chair managed to shift itself closer so things could be whispered into Arthur's ear. What didn't go unnoticed was Eames mouth on Arthur's. It took a moment for him to respond, but after the initial shock, Arthur pushed him away.
How dare Eames assume such a thing about Arthur! No matter if it was true or not, assuming anything only managed to make an ass out of everybody involved. And how dare he assume that he was Arthur's type! The ego Eames had was appalling! And that was the night Arthur vowed to detest him.
So when Arthur accepted the forger's invitation after inception, it was intended as more than an acceptance to a drink with him. A confession? An admission? Neither of them knew what else it meant, but it meant something more. And the smile on Eames face said that he knew it was something more too.
It didn't take long after that night for their relationship to progress more quickly. They began taking more and more jobs together. Sometimes taking jobs they had no interest in only because the other was involved. And when each job was complete, they'd have a drink.
Which eventually went very similarly to their first drink together. The perfect amount of drinks, Eames' innuendos, touches, whispers. It was all there. It was all familiar. And Arthur was expecting it. Waiting for it. Trying to will it to happen, because Eames was taking so damned long.
But it didn't. Instead, Eames paid their tab and they left the bar.
As they began the trek back to their hotel, Arthur stared at his feet, frowning. The silence between them was just as frustrating to him as the fact that there hadn't been a kiss. A kiss that full well should've been there.
In the safety of an elevator, it became too much. "What the hell Eames?" Arthur's annoyance had managed to clear his head a little, leaving only more annoyance in its wake. And the dirty look he directed at the other man portrayed that clearly.
"I beg your pardon?" Eames asked with a perfectly arched eyebrow as he looked back at Arthur.
"You heard me. What the hell?" Arthur seemed to be growing more annoyed the more he looked at Eames. His lack of a kiss, the silence, and now Eames' looks were beginning to annoy him. Did he always have to look so good? Even in those tacky suits?
"I'm sorry, but you'll have to give me more than that, Arthur." The other man looked as if he were utterly confused by Arthur's outburst. As if it were out of the blue.
Well shit. Arthur was at a loss for words. "I-" He what? He'd been a dunce for once in his life? He'd done exactly what Eames had done all those years ago and assumed? What? "It's just… tonight. It was-… It was just like that other time." Arthur finished quietly, tearing his gaze from Eames and back to the elevator doors. "I just thought it'd be like last time."
Again, like in the airport after the Inception job, Arthur felt Eames next to him. Felt Eames' chest, and a little of his weight, against his arm. Felt his nose brush along his jaw. And felt his warm breath run down the side of his neck. "A thousand pardons, but I was under the impression you didn't want me to. Let me make it up to you."
It started slow, Eames pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. His hand traveling up Arthur's side to turn the point man's head to face him. Brushing their lips together. Arthur cursed himself for not having paid closer attention when Eames first kissed him all those years ago. His lips were… nothing short of exceptional. Full, but soft. Like plump pillows. And skilled. His lips were gentle on Arthur's, but their force was needy. As was the way Eames hand slid to the back of Arthur's neck, refusing to allow them to part. Pulling away from each other, a bit breathless, they both smiled.
When the doors opened, they stepped out and waited for the elevator to disappear before speaking. Arthur felt slightly awkward. He had, after all, just thrown a bit of a fit to get a kiss. But Eames had seemed happy to provide it for him. But what now? "Would you lik-"
"Arthur, I'd adore going back to your room." Eames interrupted, guessing, accurately, where the thin man had been going with that sentence. "But I'm not interested in a one nighter. If that's all you're interested in, be honest with me. I won't be hurt or upset. Actually, I will be. But I'd prefer that be the case now rather than later."
"Eames. Would you like to come back to my room?" A small smile on his lips as he spoke.
Nodding, Eames had a much wider and obvious smile. "Lead the way."
It was only four months before they were more or less living together. When they took the same jobs, they'd stay in the same hotel room. When they each had time away, they'd pick one of their places to stay and spend their free weeks together.
Suddenly, Arthur's apartment had clutter. He'd come home to find dirty clothes tossed on the floor, which Arthur would immediately pick up. When Arthur made the bed, there would soon be mysterious wrinkles along the comforter, which he'd straighten out right away. Dishes that were left in the sink were quickly washed, dried, and put away.
"Arthur, love, please, come sit with me and relax. I'll clean the dishes later." Eames said, his voice thick with whine.
A slight smile spread on Arthur's face, he only allowed it because his back was to his partner. The only response Eames could see was that Arthur continued to was the dishes.
To those who didn't see them in their home life, their relationship might seem mismatched. Eames was loud, vibrant, messy, easy going and warm. Arthur was quiet, strong headed, tidy, and could be easily mistaken for cold. Most people didn't understand though. They had work in common, their love of travel, expensive tastes (though Arthur maintains only his is good). And they were both passionate. Which led to some rather intense fights.
Like the one involving the future of their careers.
"Darling, you can't possibly want to do this forever. That's ludicrous! Don't you want to retire? Lay on a nice warm beach, spread out on a towel with me? Sipping drinks from coconuts with umbrellas. Taking turns rubbing lotion on each other?" By the end, Eames eyes had darkened and Arthur recognized the look on his partner's face. If the point man didn't make his point soon, he wouldn't be making it at all.
"No, not forever, Eames. But surely not in a few years from now like you said! There's plenty of time to go to the beach after we retire in… ten or twenty years!"
"Arthur! You can't possibly be serious. You'll give yourself an ulcer if you stay in the business that long! You truly need to learn to relax darling."
Eames was always on Arthur's case about that. 'Arthur, just breathe. Take a deep breath.' 'Arthur, all work and no play makes you a big grouch.' 'Arthur, bloody hell, just sit down for a minute. Stop doing stuff. Stop cleaning.'
He missed it. He missed Eames getting on his case. He missed waking up with the bed dipping a little more on one side. He missed when Eames would intentionally frustrate Arthur so much that he couldn't work. He missed picking up Eames' clothes that had been left on the floor. He missed everything about Eames. Including the things he thought had annoyed him. Like Eames' snoring. Arthur hadn't gotten a good night's sleep since the accident. It was too quiet without Eames' heavy, disjointed breathing.
But he'd taken all of his nagging to heart. Arthur had left the business. He had more than enough to get by if he chose to simply retire. Or he could go back to school. He could find a new passion. A safe passion that Eames would approve of.
Arthur did find something. A hobby. A way to relax. He'd always wanted to learn to play guitar. He never did before because he thought it was unnecessary. With his job, a guitar would've simply collected dust in the corner. Now though, now he was free to learn. And learn he did.
Singing had always been a secret talent. It wasn't something he particularly enjoyed. He didn't sing to the car stereo. Arthur didn't sing in the shower. But, occasionally, he found a good reason to sing.
And in a little dive bar in New York on an open mic night, he found a good reason. It'd been two years, to the day. Arthur still woke up thinking about him and fell asleep thinking of him. His heart still ached. His body shook if he thought too much about him or the accident. Tears weren't as common as they had been, but they sometimes happened still.
It was easier when he was with friends though. Like he was tonight in the dive bar. The members of the inception team were all there. They'd all reacted differently when they'd been told about the couple. Cobb, having known Arthur's preference for men, was the least surprised, but still quite a bit since it was Eames. Ariadne, after her initial shock, had been nothing less than thrilled. And Yusuf became uncomfortable and busied himself with work, though he warmed up to them as a couple rather quickly.
"I've always really liked this song, ever since I was younger." He said into the microphone, a spotlight concentrated on him. "It's always meant something different to me. When I was younger, I was… a bit an odd child. And I thought of going to school and dealing with other people who wouldn't really get to know me because I was odd as the moon and then I'd come home to my parents who just accepted me with open arms, they were home." As he spoke, Arthur strummed his guitar absentmindedly, like he was simply moving his fingers and forgot it was there at all. "And then as I got older, I did a lot of traveling. And all the different places I went became the moon. Finally, being able to go home was just that, going home."
Taking a deep breath, Arthur made himself continue, despite the thick feeling in his throat. "About fifteen years ago, I met somebody. Somebody who didn't become special to me until ten years ago. And seven years ago, we began a relationship. He changed it again. He made the song mean something more. Like my entire life, I'd been living on the moon. And in meeting him, falling in love with him I was coming home. He's my home."
"But um…" Arthur could feel tears. They were threatening to spill over his lids and make their way to his face. Blinking quickly to keep them back, he cleared his throat. "But since his passing, I think- I think we're all living on the moon. That our life here on Earth is our moon. And we're all just waiting for the day when we pass and get to go home."
"This is a Sesame Street song called I Don't Wanna Live on the Moon."
"Well, I'd like to visit the moon, on a rocket ship high in the air. Yes, I'd like to visit the moon. But I don't think I'd like to live there. Though I'd like to look down at the Earth from above, I would miss all the places and people I love. So although I might like it for one afternoon, I don't want to live on the moon." As Arthur sang, he couldn't help to wish how badly he didn't want this to be his life. If Eames were still alive, he wouldn't be here. He'd be at home with him. Or they'd be out to dinner together. Or one or both of them would be on a job and they'd be laying in bed, talking to each other on the phone.
"I'd like to travel under the sea. I could meet all the fish everywhere. Yes, I'd travel under the sea. But I don't think I'd like to live there. I might stay for a day there if I had my wish. But there's not much to do when your friends are all fish. And an oyster and clam aren't real family. So I don't want to live in the sea." Or perhaps Arthur would be here. Maybe, had Eames lived, he would've somehow been able to talk Arthur into making this his life much earlier. Maybe, if Eames were still alive, Arthur would still be up on this stage singing. And he'd be sitting front row with their old team members, wedged between Cobb and Ariadne, because he never quite managed to forgive Yusuf for initially being comfortable by the relationship between the forger and point man.
"I'd like to visit the jungle, hear the lions roar. Go back in time and meet a dinosaur. There's so many strange places I'd like to be, but none of them permanently." He'd be sitting there, smiling like a fool while Arthur sang some sappy love song that Eames had begged him to sing. And Arthur would have, of course, given in. As he often did give in to Eames. On small matters mind you. Not the big ones. But it'd be all too obvious that Arthur was singing it to Eames. Perhaps, if Eames had lived, he'd have gotten Arthur to relax so much he'd be comfortable with blatantly serenading him in front of the crowd.
"So if I should visit the moon, well, I'll dance on a moonbeam and then I will make a wish on a star. And I'll wish I was home once again. Though I'd like to down at the earth from above. I would miss all places and people I love. So although I may go, I'll be coming home soon." Arthur tried. He tried his damnedest to fight the crack in his voice. But it somehow crept its way up and escaped. He had to stop his song for a moment. Only a moment, but it was long enough that everybody would take notice. It made him feel naked and exposed on stage. They could all see he was on the verge of breaking down in tears. He was still Arthur though. He was in control of himself and his emotions. After taking a deep breath, he pushed through.
"'Cause… I don't wanna live on the moon. No, I don't wanna live on the moon. No, I don't wanna live on the moon."