It wasn't the lack of heat beside him that woke the forger. It was the smell. He'd thought the weeks of cheap, overcooked, over-fried take out had sufficiently impaired his appetite, but the aroma of home-cooked pancakes, biscuits, and sausage gravy worked its magic on his senses. Must have slept better than I realized, he thought, not at all surprised. Sleeping next to Therese did wonders for his insomnia.
Not bothering to find his shirt from where it had gone in the night, Eames followed the heavenly smell to find Therese in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on a breakfast that made his mouth water. A smile brightened her face when she saw him enter. "You've got great timing," she greeted happily, her Southern drawl clear and bright. He would never understand how she could be such a morning person.
"When did you get up to do all this?" he asked, moving to stand at the island where their plates sat laden with food.
"About an hour ago. It doesn't take long to make and I figured you'd be wanting something with more substance than breakfast bagels and fast food or whatever the hell you've been living on." Turning to set the warm syrup on the counter, she nearly ran into his bare chest. She stepped back with a start, her eyes searching for something else to look at. "Aren't you going to finish getting dressed?"
Well, that's curious. She's never minded before. "Why? Are you distracted by my magnificent physique?" he teased dramatically, flexing one arm to show off his tattooed bicep.
She turned away to hide the rosy blush that began to creep over her face, but Eames caught it. "And here I thought you Brits had more manners than that, Ian." Her tone was casual, but it couldn't quite hide the slight tremor in her voice.
He shot a look at her back, wondering where this sudden shyness had come from. They'd teased each other almost mercilessly since the day they met, had shared a bed since the night she'd had too much to drink and refused to let go of his arm when he'd brought her home, and had exchanged affectionate touches and caresses even before that. What had happened since his last visit to turn her into a blushing schoolgirl? He'd ask her later. Right now those pancakes were making his stomach growl. He dug a clean shirt out of his bag and pulled it on for her sake. When he returned to the kitchen, Therese's blush had disappeared along with her sudden modesty. "By the way, you really need to stop breaking in here before Roy catches you."
Eames waved her concern away with his fork before he stabbed into the biscuits and gravy. "You really need to get a better lock." Or have someone around to protect you. Where the hell did that come from? He shoved the uncalled for thought aside and focused instead on the delicious meal in front of him. Besides, if Roy the security guard ever caught him breaking and entering he could easily take him out without a struggle.
They ate in companionable silence until not a scrap of food was left. He tried to help put things away, but Therese firmly pushed him down in his seat. "You're in the South, Ian," she scolded gently. "I've told you before we don't let guests do housework."
"Whatever makes you happy, darling." He watched her clean up with no short amount of interest. That's what he loved about being around her, how simple and ordinary her day-to-day life was compared to his. There was a peace around her, a serenity he found himself envying more and more lately. He could never completely give up his work (it was too much fun, really), but these bouts of calm were a most welcome change for the forger. His thoughts soon grew less innocent the longer he watched her (as had become the norm over the years), so he left her to her cleaning while he searched his bag for his totem. The seemingly innocuous poker chip had been altered with a weight on one side so that it always stood on its edge and never rolled. Angling himself so she wouldn't see, he sat the chip on the table beside the couch. He let out a relieved breath. Not dreaming. "I'm gonna get cleaned up, love," he announced over the running tap.
Mere minutes later and Eames felt (and smelled) infinitely better. Sometime during his shower Therese had started playing. The deep, mournful notes floated from her cello through both the bedroom and bathroom doors to his ears. He didn't recognize the piece, but then again he wasn't exactly well-versed in classical music. When he made his way back to the living area, the piece had changed from something fast and lively to "Hall of the Mountain King" (that one he did recognize). He gave her a suspicious glance but let it slide as he observed her.
Therese was the picture of focus as she played. Her back was ramrod straight, eyes closed, fingers skittering over the cello's neck. Eames hadn't really thought of cellists as sexy, but he saw it right now. How talented and quick her fingers were on the strings, how her knees gripped the instrument as he'd imagined on more than one occasion they'd do to him, the way her lips were parted ever so slightly. He groaned at the enticing sight of her before forcing those thoughts back in their cage. She was his friend and until she told him otherwise she was nothing more or less than that. She gave him comfort without asking for anything in return and seemed quite content to share the occasional caress or chaste kiss without crossing the line between friend and lover. Although part of him wanted more, he cherished what she did give him and wouldn't dare jeopardize the one good thing he had.
She jumped at the sound of his applause as she drew the bow across the strings with a final flourish. "Beautiful as always," he said, moving closer to crouch beside her.
"Flatterer," she chided half-heartedly, setting the instrument back on its stand. "I've been practicing a bit more since I've got a performance tonight. Would you like to come?"
You first…stop it! "I'd be delighted, of course." A sudden idea came to him. He ducked his head almost shyly, knowing she would instinctively move closer. "Soooo, does that mean your morning is free?"
"For you, my whole day is wide open."
"Well, when you put it that way…" He gave her no time to protest as he sprang up and lifted her into his arms, though she did squeak at the sudden move. "What do you say to a couple bad movies, then lunch, and you can have the rest of the evening to get all dressed up for your big show."
Therese giggled when he fell onto the couch with her tightly held against his chest. "That actually sounds pretty awesome. I haven't had a chance to use my Netflix subscription much this month anyway."
The hours ticked away slowly yet simultaneously all too quickly for Eames. She laid back on him between his legs as if completely at ease with the world and her place in it. While she laughed at the ridiculousness of the actors and dialogue of the movie, she remained oblivious to the attention he silently lavished on her. His eyes followed his fingers as they trailed over her bared shoulder and down her arm before his gaze traveled to more…exotic locations. Her breasts gently rose and fell with each breath, each laugh, each gasp at the action on the screen. He had to stay is hand more than once from drifting over to them, though in his mind they practically begged to be touched. Tearing his eyes from them didn't help much, however, not when he found the swell of her hips and their transition into smooth thighs. His brain turned traitor at the sight, launching him into very vivid daydreams about those thighs locked around his waist and those hips surging and twisting against his. The mental images came quicker as he became more aware of the way her back molded to his chest, the aching closeness of her backside to certain sensitive parts of his anatomy. He tried to block out his overactive imagination by closing his eyes to them. His head tilted back on the arm of the sofa, a long, slow breath escaping his lips.
"Are you alright?" Therese asked, her low voice cutting through his thoughts.
That depends on your definition of 'alright'. "Just peachy, darling." He had to get away from her. He'd give himself away if he stayed much longer. Her softness, her heat, her scent. They were too much for him right now. "How about that lunch?" He didn't give her a chance to answer, pushing her up just enough to stand and call for delivery from that mom-and-pop Italian place she'd shown him a few visits back.
Lunch went by without a single question from her. That was another reason he enjoyed her company so much: she never asked questions about his job. He knew she was curious, of course, but she never pried. Even now, knowing that something had gone wrong with his last 'business deal' and driven him to her, she just ate her stromboli alongside him as if nothing was amiss.
When the trash was thrown away and the credits started to roll, Therese stood and stretched her arms over her head. Eames couldn't look away from the arch of her back nor the strip of flesh exposed when her tank top rode up. He cleared his face of all expression when she looked down at him, hands on her hips. "Well, I know you're probably exhausted from being treated like a king in first class for hours on end, but I need to stretch my legs for a bit. You're more than welcome to stay and catch up on your sleep, though." There was a mocking note to her voice that he didn't miss.
"Is that a challenge?" he whined, pretending to be offended. "Are you challenging me?"
Walking backwards towards her bedroom, she put on her best 'innocent face', one hand going to her chest in mock outrage. "I am doing nothing of the sort, Ian." She stepped a little faster when he stood and advanced on her. "I am merely expressing my concern for AN OLD MAN'S HEALTH!" The last few words came out in a hurry as she slammed her bedroom door to escape his sudden charge. The door wouldn't have made a difference if he'd really meant to punish her for that remark. Her laughter from the other side both irritated and enflamed him.
"You wound me with such harsh words, Therese," he called.
She laughed again. "If it's any consolation, at least you limeys age well!"
"Cheeky," he muttered with a smirk.
She'd chosen a simple ensemble, but one that continuously drew his attention to her curves. A fitted blouse in the purest shade of sapphire blue clung to her body like a second skin above equally fitted black pants. Even if he hadn't already been painfully attracted to her he would have still appreciated the view. He let her talk as they walked down the sidewalk, his arm around her shoulders. She told him how she'd had to give her cat away to a friend since the new landlord wouldn't allow pets, and how "poor Mrs. Riley had to move; she just couldn't part with that Pomeranian". She talked about how she missed performing with an orchestra after playing solo for the past three months. But she adored being able to share her love of the cello with others without having to compete over the violins, flutes, and snare drums. He loved hearing the passion in her voice when she spoke about playing; it reminded him that not everyone retreated to sleep to live out their dreams.
Therese suddenly stopped and stared into a shop window. Eames followed her gaze and immediately understood her distraction. A necklace that looked like a galaxy contained in a small pendant hung from a display, the sunlight catching the myriad of blues, greens, and purples in the black stone. She was almost obsessed with stars, as was evidenced by her astronomy books, the wallpaper of the Crab Nebula on her desktop, and what little jewelry she owned, including the tiny star she now wore in her right nostril. She looked at the necklace with a mix of awe and disappointment that made his heart clench. The $340 price tag and the 'Reserved' sign were the source of her distress. "Sorry," she said with a glance at his face. "I've had my eye on that for weeks and that's the last one they have. I only managed to save up $200 before someone else came in and offered them more than retail." She gave one last look of longing at the pendant before shaking her head. "Anyway, it's not that big of a deal. I'll find something else to spend that money on…like rent."
They'd gone a couple more blocks before she stopped again. "What's caught your eye now, love?"
"Nothing, but I need to pick up a couple things. Now, you" - she poked a finger into the center of his chest – "go find something to do for a few minutes while I get what I need. It's a surprise," she clarified at his confused look.
"Ahh, well then, as my lady commands." He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles gallantly, drawing a few stares from passersby. She ducked her head shyly before extricating herself from him and walking away. He would never admit it aloud, but he enjoyed embarrassing her sometimes. Luckily for her, he knew exactly where to go to kill some time. Otherwise he'd have tailed her to discover what kind of surprise she had in store.
All grammatical errors and spelling mistakes are mine. I are too lazy to find and fix them. I also took some liberties with Eames' totem. Hope you guys liked this chapter! More to come!