To be honest it had scared him. After all throughout his life he always viewed himself as pretty much an average and very straight male. So when he had found himself panting and moaning over the thin form of the Point Man of the team that had hired him for this mission it had really thrown his world upside-down. Given he had a few friends who were gay and he was fine with that, it wasn't that he was homophobic, he didn't even have a problem with the idea of it. Eames had just never applied the term to himself. He had never even fathomed kissing another man let alone partaking in more carnal activities.
So when they finished the job, he left with no more than a thanks for his share of the pay. Given the nature of his one night lover's job he was fairly sure he couldn't even just go home. It would be easy to find him there. Eames would never admit to it but he was running, burying himself far away so Arthur wouldn't have a chance to find him. He didn't want to even give it a chance, nice as it had been to watch the man catching his breath again while sprawled over his own chest… No. No, he couldn't let that happen, that wasn't who he was. It wasn't who he was comfortable being.
It was childish, he knew that. However, if he had to face him again after that, well, he knew where it would lead them and Eames wasn't about to allow that. He couldn't just ignore it and pretend nothing happened. That wasn't how things worked, especially not with someone who was so fine point on the details. It would be a matter of time before he was interrogated with questions he probably couldn't answer and he wasn't about to face that. Being a free agent gave him the ability to run.
He had gone where he knew Arthur wouldn't be, Kenya. Mombasa was COBOL's territory, or well it was on the doorstep of what he owned. Cobb wouldn't be going anywhere near him, and with Arthur being his right hand man, well, he wouldn't have anything to worry about. No constant temptation of sorts to try and will him to be something he knew he wasn't. It was just one night. It had even been in a dream at that. It hardly counted as anything serious.
At first it started with any time he heard that bloody song Arthur had insisted they used for timing their kick. Of course he hadn't a clue what the song meant at the time. Like hell he was going to learn French for the sake of one blasted song. Then again, any time the tune lodged itself in his head (and he sung his own rendition of French sounding syllables until he took the time to look it up) he couldn't help but see a flash of Arthur's face. It was easy enough to shake away, which he did. Eames never gave himself time to focus on it but, it only got worse.
And then it started to be whenever it rained. It had been raining in the dream at that one time they had been together. The water pelting the pavement and funneling off the labyrinth of buildings was loud enough to cover most of their cries of ecstasy. It wasn't just a face that the rain would remind him of though. It was a snippet of a memory. Sound, image and feelings combined for a few brief seconds, just enough to tease him into wanting to fully recall the moment. The curve of his neck, water beading and running over warmed flushed flesh. The short little gasp of air rushing over lips that were a fraction of an inch away from his own. His own name being murmured in utter desperation as hot short breaths ghosted over his neck. It was becoming difficult to ignore those fine details.
On the very rare occasion he gave into it. Usually a rainy night he'd let himself get caught in reliving the memory in short flashes. Savoring the moments and lingering on the phantom tingles of touches that happened so long ago. His own hand substituting for Arthur's in the man's absence. He would never admit to these guilty nights, even though no one would ever know that they had happened. He knew, but they would be locked away from even himself as if it had never happened at all.
He had managed to live like that for quite a while. He only occasionally had to remember that day, other than that he was perfectly fine taking jobs where he was and using that money to drink and occasionally gamble when he had the chance. However, it all came crashing down around him when he was gambling.
Sitting at a poker table, fingers rubbing over the chips as he was considering his hand. A little flash of red passed the corner of his eyes every few seconds. He had ignored it best he could but when he had folded a hand he caught himself watching the craps game. He had watched for a while before standing up and even leaving his chips at the table which thoroughly confused the dealer but, no he couldn't stay. That was the day Eames had realized he couldn't get over Arthur.
It was a month or so later that Cobb asked for his help and he willingly accepted knowing he'd have to face Arthur again. Perhaps it was about time. He'd changed quite a bit, even if he didn't want to admit it. He'd at least learned there was no way to get over the other man, not for him anyway.
All things said and done Eames let his hand draw lazily over Arthur's exposed back and he sighed just watching the man sprawled across his chest looking sleepy and well sated. A small smile graced Eames' lips as his fingers made their way over Arthur's skin. Finally for the first time in his life Eames was able to understand that bloody song Arthur still used to time their kicks. He really didn't regret anything. Not now that he had Arthur.