Sorry for the delay of this chapter. School has just been really hectic and I've hardly had any time for writing anything else than essays.

This is a short chapter, I know, but I just can't bare to put anything else in since that will ruin the beginning of the next.

Eames woke up with a patch of warm drool on his shoulder. It was undoubtedly Arthur's, who was still cuddled up in his arms, snoring slightly and eyes puffy from the latest tears.

Smiling, Eames carded his fingers through his dark hair, nuzzled the tip of his nose to his forehead. His weight was something he'd missed. It was so familiar and comfortable and as Eames tossed his arms around him he felt like coming home. Now when he was able to hold him he was going to fucking hold him.

"I can't breathe." Arthur croaked into his neck and Eames hummed happily.

"I don't care." he murmured and pressed his lips to his brow. Arthur laughed tiredly and held onto his shoulders as Eames rolled them around. Arthur landed on the bed with Eames on top of him and he wrapped arms and legs around him as quick as a cat. "Feeling better now, are we?"

Arthur hummed into the nape of Eames' neck, felt the stubble of his chin tickle his cheek and he couldn't hold back the small scoff teasing his throat.

"Starting to." he said cuddling yet a little deeper into Eames nook. "A cup of strong coffee would probably wake me up."

"I have some in the cupboard, I could make you one if you'd like." Arthur sighed in some relief that seemed excessive for just a drink.

"Would you?" he asked and pushed himself off the man until he landed on his back beside him. His hair stood out in just the wrong places after all those times Eames had run his fingers through them and he wished he could do it a bit more before he had to get out of bed to make him that sodding coffee. "Make it as dark as my soul."

"As dark as mine then." Eames said and finally managed to get up with a heavy grunt. "Sugar?"

"Don't you dare." Arthur said and wrapped himself tightly in the duvet. Once again he looked like a small child that had appeared out of the blue at the wrong side of the pond and Eames wanted nothing more than to snap a photo and hang it on his fridge.

Eames made the coffee, finding himself tossing a glance across the kitchen island just like he was making sure that Arthur was still there while he buttered up a couple of toasts for them to nibble on. It was such a domestic scene looking from the outside. It felt like maybe he should clean a drawer out if they had had more time.

And if Arthur had had anything to put in it.

He wondered where he kept all of his suits.

Arthur drew a huge breath through his nose and a crinkle appeared between his eyebrows.

"Are you cooking?"

"If you call toasts cooking?" Eames said and gave Arthur a huge grin as he lifted his head off the pillow to look at him.

"D'you have chocolate spread?" Of course that sweet tooth wanted chocolate spread, Eames thought with a shake of the head before taking out the Nutella from the cupboard. Arthur sprang out of the bed like a child on christmas.

"It's not marmite." he ensured as Arthur stuck his nose in the jar to have a whiff.

"I can never be sure of you, can I?" Arthur smiled and stuck a butter knife into the creamy goodness that had been a curse for children for countless of years. Buttering his toast Eames was sure he could see a sparkling glee being awoken inside of Arthur.

Biting into it only made it worse.

"Oh god." Arthur moaned like he'd just been sexually pleasured by sugar. "I haven't had this for years." Plopping down on one of the chairs he continued to nibble his toast noisily.

"Good?" Eames asked teasingly as he placed the cup of steaming coffee before him before sitting down himself.

"So good." Arthur answered him with an eye roll of disbelief before taking another, large bite. "There's such a huge difference between european Nutella and american. Your's is so much better."

"I know." Eames grinned and bit into his own that had a decent amount of marmalade and butter.

Arthur licked his fingers as he finished his toast and turned to his sweet tea; gulped it down like a dry man finding a waterhole in the dessert. It was weird seeing Arthur eating with such gusto. Usually he scowled at food like nothing was good enough for him. A day on the job was often filled with coffee and maybe some salty crisps if it was close by.

And of course a bunch of sugar.

Arthur was the king of sweets.

"So." Eames said as he looked at the clock on his phone. "It's only five a'clock. Are we seeing your parents again or are we waiting until tomorrow?"

Licking his lips clean from sugar and tea Arthur smile lessened on his lips. The feeling of stress sparked through the air again and Eames couldn't help the ice settling in his stomach even though he had to ask that question. Arthur was a man of planing and routine, and today Eames felt the need to help him back on track.

"We're going to her dorm tomorrow." he said with a voice that sounded hollow and childlike. "We're packing what we can and sending it home." His slim fingers played with the sleeve of his shirt nervously as he spoke, flicked the button like it was a painful scab he couldn't stop picking at. "Then we're planning our trip back." He looked up at Eames; eyes dark and filled with fear. "We need to plan the funeral."

Nodding was all Eames could do because if he opened his mouth right now he was afraid do say something that would make Arthur understand his disappointment. Of course this was a time of sorrow and that their time together would be brief. Still he felt that nagging, selfish feeling that he wanted to keep Arthur for himself. A couple of hours was not enough. He wanted time they didn't have.

He looked at Arthur with kind eyes, formed his lips into something he could not quite call a smile and sighed.

"When all this is over, maybe I should come see our house." he said already realising his mistake. "Your!" he hurried and shook his head. "Your house." He knew he shouldn't have opened his mouth.

"You really should." Arthur said laughing and suddenly Eames words had done more than just bring shame to him. "I have a sink in my bathroom that works."

Arthur left the next morning. It had been hard for the both of them. They's stayed in Eames hallway nearly ten minutes just holding each other, kissed each other with small promises that Eames would indeed come to America when all had settled; that he would see Arthur's house and that Eames would bring a jar of Nutella.

Then he'd stepped out that door and Eames had watched from the window as he disappeared down the street in the cab. It hurt to once again let go of that man. That perfect bastard with pointy ears and way to expensive clothes. He shouldn't like him as much as he did.

As the cab disappeared around the corner her turned back to the room. The clothes Arthur had borrowed was neatly folded and placed on the chair he used as a nightstand, the plate smeared with chocolate spread was still on the table and the side Arthur had slept on on the bed was wrinkled from all his tossing and turning.

Yet it was like he'd never been here.

Licking his lips he slowly accepted that he was once again alone like these last couple of days had been nothing more than a dream. He felt like crying.

He slammed down on the bed and buried his head in Arthur pillow, taking a deep breath and felt his heart leap as it still smelled of him. The sharp smell of sandalwood from his hair, the oaky scent from his perfume. It was like breathing in a forest, only Eames could only think of hotel rooms and suits.

"Fuck this." he sighed angrily and fell asleep.

Once again he was awoken by his phone. Opening his eyes with his face deeply buried in the pillow he saw nothing but darkness while flailing for his phone on the floor.

"Hello?" he groaned and lifted his head, blinded by the bright light.

"I'm such an idiot." Arthur voice said and Eames was clear awake.

"Arthur!?"

"Look. I dunno if this is inappropriate or... what ever it is but... um... I'd like to invite you to the funeral."

Eames choked.

"I know it's weird and all but... I'd be very happy if you'd come to Ohio with me."

Eames was suddenly sitting up in his bed, staring out over the darkened room that was just as filled as the rest of his life; quivering with anticipation.

"Arthur, I..."

"I know. I know it's sudden and... somewhat an odd request but... I feel bad not inviting you after all you had to deal with this week. So, you don't have to if you don't want to but if you want to would you come?" He had to coverer the mic with his hand so Arthur couldn't head him laugh.

"You're rambling." he said when he'd smothered the feeling blossoming in his chest.

Arthur was suddenly very quiet on the other side and Eames felt his lips go wide from his smile.

"Of course I'll be there, Arthur." he said a little too happily and he could literally hear Arthur deflate over the line.

"You sure?"

"I'm sure." Eames said, trying not to make his voice sound as happy as he looked. "I know I've never met your sister, but I might as well have since I feel like I've known her forever after all the stories I've heard."
There was a sound. Not quite a laugh or a sob, but something perfectly in between and Eames went warm all through.

"So um..." Arthur mumbled with an unsteady voice. "D'you want me to book your flight? I'm just about to book our own."

"If you can stand an eleven hour flight with me, that would be great." Arthur made a little laugh and Eames could hear the echo of the bathroom where he was probably hiding from his parents. It felt weird. Like they were a couple of high school teenagers sneaking around with a forbidden gay romance.

"I'll make sure my parent's are in another isle." he said and Eames chuckled in delight.

"No, Arthur. I don't want to be they bloke who makes something uncomfortable between you and your parent. Are you sure it's okay we're on the same plane?"

"It was their idea."

"Pardon?"

"They thought I was a complete halfwit for not inviting you after all your help."

"Halfwit? Have i rubbed off on you?"

"Shut up." He sounded happier now; his lungs filled with puffs of pretty laughter only meant for Eames to hear and his cheeks were now hurting as his smile grew wider. "I'll call you with a time tomorrow. We're aiming for tomorrow night if there's a plane that can squeeze in a coffin on short notice." The sentence ended with a small sound and Eames knew Arthur had stomped himself on the toe. That stupid bugger. Arthur sighed heavily and groaned. "So, I guess... I'll see you tomorrow."

"Sound about right." Eames smiled and carded a hand through his hair.

"Okay." Arthur huffed and gave him a little laugh. "Good night, Eames."

"Good night, Arthur."