The next night, Eames bit the bullet and headed for his father's Mayfair townhouse, where he technically lived when not at university. The third "bedroom" in his mother's flat was set up as a study room. While he could sleep on the couch, he wouldn't have a bedroom to retreat to. He arrived at his father's place after sharing a lovely dinner with his Mum and sister. He was hoping his father would be out, but instead Eames found his father and the girlfriend of the week enjoying carryout in the dining room. "Well, look what the cat dragged in," his father commented loudly as Eames let himself in the front door.

"Evening, Dad," Eames replied. He nodded at the girlfriend and tried to continue to the stairs with his duffel bag and satchel.

"Aren't you going to introduce yourself to my lovely companion?" His father said pointedly.

Eames gritted his teeth before pasting a smile on his face and walking into the dining room. He walked over to the girlfriend and extended his hand. "Good evening. I am William, George's son. May I have the pleasure of your name?"

The girlfriend, probably only a few years older than Eames, giggled and took his hand. "I'm Lulu."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Lulu."

Eames' father grunted, "That's better. I thought your term ended almost a month ago."

"It did." The fewer words he said to his father, the fewer his father could twist.

"So why is this the first time I've seen you? Have you been stumbling around Oxford in a drunken stupor squandering my hard-earned money for the past month?"

Eames took in a deep breath to keep his voice level. "I left you a note when I dropped off my bags at the end of the term. You were on a business trip. I had a job helping with a research project. They will need me a few more times this summer."

His father snorted. "I guess I should be grateful you finally got off your lazy ass and got a job."

Deep breath. Don't let him get to you. Eames faked a yawn. "Well, I'm beat," he lied. "Good night, Lulu. Good night, Dad." He kept his walk casual and unhurried until he was out of his father's hearing. He took the last flight of steps up to his attic sanctuary at a run, slamming the door behind him and locking it. Dropping his bags, Eames pressed his fist against his teeth until the urge to scream, cry, and/or throw things subsided. He reminded himself that he only had to get through this summer. After graduation, he was never living under his father's roof again.

The first time he tried to call Levi's number, there was no answer. A few minutes later, Levi called back. "I'm sorry, I can't talk now, but I'm glad you called. Will you still be up at 10:30 or so?"

"For you, yes."

"I'll ring you." True to his word, Levi called at precisely 10:30. After some pleasantries, he admitted that he was exhausted from the long day with his family. "But I wanted to talk to you, and to check if you are you doing anything this weekend? I can get away on Saturday."

"I am now, darling," Eames answered, emboldened by the happiness bubbling in his heart.

They met in Hyde Park on Saturday, near the Albert Memorial. Levi had already spread a picnic blanket on the grass and was sitting cross-legged on it, with a small array of food next to him. They beamed at one another as Eames walked up, holding two hot drink cups.

"Your tea, Earl Grey, with milk, no sugar," he declared as he handed it to him. As Eames settled onto the blanket, Levi took a sip.

"You remembered my tea preferences?"

"I did, love," Eames confirmed as he looked at the savory breakfast croissants and pain au chocolat Levi had brought. "Your selections look delicious," he commented as he leaned over, and they briefly kissed.

Eames stretched out on his left side, propping himself up with his left arm. After a moment, Levi mirrored him as they drank their teas and munched on their breakfast, laughing and chatting. Finally, nothing remained but crumbs, and Eames reached over with his thumb to gently wipe away a drop of chocolate from Levi's lip. Levi caught his hand, delicately licked the chocolate off Eames' thumb. Eames thought he was going to melt, and he prayed that no one else noticed how tight his pants had just become. "Before we go any further, I want to tell you something." Eames heart dropped a little, preparing for the worst. "My real name is Jacob. When you talk to me, I want you to call me by my real name."

Eames exhaled with relief. "Jacob," he repeated. "Jacob." He liked how the name felt in his mouth. "'Spose I can use that when I'm not calling you darling or pet. Mine's William. Will, if you like."

"It suits you," Jacob said. "William." They leaned forward for another quick kiss.

"So, Jacob," Eames emphasized the name. "What would you like to do today?"

"I didn't think further than be with you. What would you do if it were just you?"

"If I didn't sleep or read all day, I'd go to a museum. The British, or the V&A. I love art, and I love history, and I love just watching people."

"Show me."

They spent hours at the Victoria & Albert Museum, with Jacob listening intently while Eames prattled on about the art and the artists and cultures that created it. In the Cast Courts, Eames stopped short and said, "I've been babbling non-stop for almost two hours. You're probably sick of hearing me talk, love."

Jacob shook his head and squeezed Eames' hand. "On the contrary. I'm hanging onto your every word. You know so much about everything in here."

"My mum's a curator. She's at the British Museum now, but she worked here when I was in grammar school. My sister Alice and I used to run around here like it was our playground."

"That sounds fun."

Eames chuckled to himself. "I'll tell you more stories about it someday, when I'm sure the statute of limitations has run out on everything we got away with."

"I would have thought that, growing up in London, you would have visited more museums and such," Eames finally commented, as they stopped for dinner in a cozy little pub. They had snagged a corner table with a curved bench seat, which allowed them to sit close together, thighs touching. Eames was almost giddy with Jacob's closeness.

"Only ever with school. With six kids and adjusting to a new culture, my parents didn't have a lot of time or energy for outings." Jacob explained. "We came here from Israel when I was a baby. My mother got a job offer here making more than what she and my father made combined in Israel. She's adjusted far better than my father." Jacob sighed.

"Your parents are still together?"

"Thirty years next month. We're planning a big anniversary party for them. What about yours?"

Eames stared down into his pint glass. "I barely remember them being together. My Dad insisted that as the heir to the family business, I had to live with him after the divorce. Alice went with Mum. I'd like you to meet Alice and my mum." Realizing what he'd said, Eames rushed to clarify. "I mean, not right away, but, you know, at some point. I don't want you to think I'm rushing things."

Jacob grinned at him and squeezed his hand. "No worries. I'd like you to meet my sister Rachel. The rest of my family...can wait."

"As families so often can. My father is convinced that I devote extensive amounts to of time to devising new ways to disappoint him," Eames confided bitterly.

"I know how that feels," Jacob agreed sadly. "But you know what?" he whispered, forcing Eames to lean in towards him inquisitively. "He's wrong. You're handsome. And thoughtful. And smart. And sweet." Jacob punctuated the listing of each attribute with a kiss to Eames' cheek.

"And funny?" Eames suggested, blushing and teasing.

"And, oh so humble," Jacob retorted, laughing. When he stopped laughing, he smiled. "I've never met anyone like you before, William."

"I've never met anyone like you either." They leaned together, foreheads touching, oblivious to anything else except each other.