The first time Eames kissed Arthur, it ended violently.
In an alley in the back of Arthur's mind, their steps echoed on the cobblestones as they escaped the enraged crowd. The forgery bled away as Eames ran. First the dress, shifting to be replaced by trousers that were so much easier to run in. Then the blonde curls shortened and darkened, the bright red lips dulled, and stubble peppered across his chin. Her personality battered against his consciousness and he had to remind himself not to fight it, getting accustomed to the character had been the entire purpose of the exercise.
The point man turned on him once they'd fled far enough into the depths of the maze; his normally slick hair disheveled and his brown eyes were alight with fury. He glared mutely, catching his breath a moment before opening his mouth to deliver a scathing reprimand.
The forger interrupted before he could speak. "You alright darling? Normally your subconscious is much more amicable." Never mind that he had provoked them, never mind all that.
"I don't suppose a little more professionalism would be too much to ask, Mr. Eames." Arthur's voice was cold, colored by the anger that glinted in his steely gaze.
"Anything for you love." Eames leered at the eye-roll he received. They both knew it was a lie, the forger would never resist the temptation to push any of Arthur's buttons that he found. He looked away from the point man, back down the alley that they had come from. The yells of the projections were getting close again, their rage echoing across the city. Arthur is still looking at him with that infuriated expression, running fingers through his hair to replace the locks that had fallen out of formation. The forger wonders if his cheeks would flush the same way if he were aroused instead of angry, if his eyes would darken to that exact shade, and if his breath would quicken to a matching pace.
"You know sweetheart, the world won't fall down if you let loose once in a while." Eames said and reached forward to yank at the other man's tie, ruining the perfect placement of the knot as he dragged him close and slammed their mouths together.
For an instant it was all teeth and lips and tongues and the taste of gunpowder, then he's being dragged away. Thousands of hands grabbing at him, tearing at him, but he didn't see them or hear their yelling. His gaze was locked on Arthur, on the eyes that were different than they'd been an instant before, still narrowed but a bit brighter. Then the point man raised the gun that's suddenly in his hand, and Eames woke in the warehouse with a smug grin and the realization that his pants were feeling way too tight.
The second time Eames kissed Arthur he blamed it on the heat.