Arthur stared down at the sweating bottle in his hand. He watched a bead of concentration slip down the glass, gathering speed and momentum, until it hung, fat and heavy, from the bottom edge of the brown bottle. Then it fell, almost in slow motion, and spattered on his neatly pressed khaki pants. He swiped his thumb across the label, for some reason startled by the Budweiser brand. American piss water, he thought, and then smiled slightly.
"What are you smiling at?" Cobb asked, settling in the lawn chair next to him. He squinted at Arthur, then grinned as he reached his own beer across the divide between them, clinking it on Arthur's own. "Nevermind, I don't want to know. Here's to whatever keeps you smiling, yeah?"
"Huh. Yeah," Arthur said softly. Then he shook himself out of his reverie and asked, "So! When does this party get started?"
Cobb laughed, light and easy, and Arthur was trying to put his finger on why it sounded so strange to hear him laugh. "I hate to break it to you, Arthur? But this is pretty much it. She's planning on going out with her friends later, but she deigned to hold court with us mere mortals for the afternoon, so suck in as much of her presence as you can."
"Oh no, and here I thought she was just here for our presents," Arthur grinned lazily.
"Ah ha. I see what you did there. Hey, I'm gonna go flip the burgers, will you grab me another beer?"
"Sure," Arthur stood, "Just one? Isn't this a girl's sweet sixteen party?"
"Good point." Cobb turned back on his way to the grill and stage whispered, "Better make it two," and smiled widely, flipping the spatula in his hand.
Arthur headed toward the house, breathing in the fresh smell of grass and sunshine. It really was a beautiful day for a birthday party, even if it was just the few of them. He caught sight of Miles, settled in the shade and fanning himself lazily. He looked a little tired, the pale, thin skin on his neck seemed to fold in on itself, they way it did with old men. "Miles, I'm grabbing a beer, you want one?"
"No, thank you, Arthur," Miles answered, tipping a slow smile his direction, his accent drawing out the R's in his name until it sounded like he didn't have any. Ahhhhthhhhaaaahhh. It was his favorite way to hear his name said, he decided.
He ducked into the cool of the house, making sure to slide the door closed against the Los Angeles heat behind him and felt a strange contentment settle over him as he rinsed out his empty beer bottle and set it on the counter for recycling later. Why was it strange? Wasn't he supposed to feel contented? He grabbed the cold bottles from the fridge, letting it slam shut, and took his time prying off the lids. He couldn't stop the thread of slight unease that settled in his gut. Contented was how he was supposed to feel, wasn't it? He looked around the Cobb's house, practically his second home as he was over here so much. He could hear Phillipa's squeal and James's answering laughter float in from outside, loud despite the closed doors and windows. The water balloon fight must be under way then. He smiled and tried to shrug off the odd sensation. He had better things to focus on. He made to grab the bottles but before he could turn, strong arms enfolded him from behind. The familiar scent and weight of Eames against his back made warmth flood his belly. Eames nuzzled his nose into his hairline at the back of his neck, and Arthur leaned his head back on Eames's shoulder, eyes closed. An overwhelming sense of rightness poured over him, and he immediately forgot his previous anxiety.
"Hello, pet," Eames rumbled in his ear, his fingers tracing Arthur's belt at his hips.
Arthur let out a pleased sigh. "You're here," he said. "I was worried for some reason."
Eames squeezed his waist, pressing a quick kiss onto the back of his head. "And where would I be, huh? You know I can't stay away for long."
"Well, you never know. Every trip to the grocery store is an adventure in wondering if you'll finally meet some cute track star and settle down." Arthur turned in the circle of Eames's arms and hugged him, resting his head on Eames's muscled chest.
Eames chuckled. "You're in luck. No track stars in sight." He hugged Arthur back. "This time."
"Ah well," Arthur said, raising his face for a quick kiss, "there's always next time. Don't give up hope."
Eames slid his palms down Arthur's back, cupping his ass and turning his quick kiss into a longer, slower one. The kind of lazy, Sunday afternoon kiss that Arthur so desperately enjoyed, and he gave as good as he got. Eames made an interested noise against his mouth and tipped his head, slotting their mouths together and breaching Arthur's mouth with his tongue. He pulled Arthur's hips into his, hands firmly on his backside and Arthur was lost. How could he, after all these years, still crave this man like a drug? He didn't know and didn't particularly care. That previously sought for contentedness radiated between them, darkening quickly though with heat the longer the kiss went on.
"Oh, GROSS. Can't you two get a room? Don't you have a whole house full of rooms, actually?" Phillipa's disgusted voice reverberated in the previously quiet kitchen.
Eames chuckled, pulling away from Arthur after one last squeeze. He crossed to Phillipa and dropped a kiss on her upturned cheek. "Happy birthday, love."
"Did you see my car?" she asked breathlessly. "Isn't it gorgeous?"
"I did see it on my way in, it's very nice. How many boys do you think will fit in the back seat of that beast?"
"Uncle Eames!" she squawked, laughing and pushing on his shoulder. "Stop it!"
"Don't bother answering that, I already know how many," Arthur interrupted, dropping another kiss on her cheek, his hands full of beer bottles. "It's less than one. And tell Pledge I said so."
Phillipa rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Stop calling him that, his name is Dustin. I've told you that a hundred times."
"Dustin Wood. What were his parents thinking?" Arthur frowned and shook his head distastefully.
Phillipa smiled. "Shut up, Uncle Arthur. He's nice! And I like him. And he's coming over later, so don't be scary when he gets here."
Arthur glared, still frowning. "I make no guarantees."
Phillipa flounced off and Eames steered him toward the backyard again, his hand warm on the small of his back.
"Hey, Eames! You made it! Did you get the cake?" Cobb called from the grill.
"Oh, bloody hell, I knew I went there for a reason!"
"Ha ha, you're hilarious."
"It's on the table. It's cute, they did a good job."
Cobb paused in flipping burgers. "Oh God, it's CUTE?! She's going to hate it, damn! Here, Arthur, take over. Damn it!" He scuttled toward the house and Arthur accepted the awesome responsibility of the spatula. He surveyed the rest of the backyard as he flipped the remaining patties, helpless to stop the happy sigh that escaped. James and a few of his friends were huddled together, tossing water balloons at each other and laughing in varying ranges of tenor and bass. James's voice had cracked the other day when he was talking and he thought Eames was going to bust a seam laughing.
Just then Eames's strong fingers grasped his jaw and turned his head towards him. He kissed Arthur firmly on the mouth, then smiled at him.
"What was that for?" Arthur asked, smiling back.
"What? Oh, bollocks, you're not wearing the apron!" Eames teased. "Ah, well, I guess I'll be one-up for next time."
"I'd one-up you right here, but there are children and old men present," Arthur said, leaning towards him.
"Ooh, promises, promises, pet. Don't start something you can't finish," Eames grinned, clearly daring him to go ahead and start something, children and old men be damned.
"You are a dangerous man, Mr. Eames," Arthur smiled.
"The worst of the worst," he allowed, coming in for another kiss. But just then, a water balloon flew in and hit Eames in the chest, soaking him instantly. "Hey!" he yelped. "Oh, no you did not, it is ON!" Then he ran towards the boys scooping water balloons out of buckets and pelting them with unerring accuracy. And Arthur laughed and laughed.
Disclaimer: The name Dustin Wood and the nickname Pledge are not, unfortunately, my creation, but rather real life. This was my friend's nickname for his daughter's boyfriend. Yes, folks, that actually happened, and it was too hilarious not to be fan fiction somewhere.
