Second chapter, finally getting things rolling. Reviews and critique would be much appreciated!

Disclaimer: I own nothing except my own lame imagination.

Arthur tried to sputter out some biting comment, something even remotely eloquent and respectable, but failed. He just couldn't uncross the jumbled wires in his head fast enough. All he could manage was the most obvious and predictable words once might say in such a situation.

"What are you doing here?" he hissed, as if affronted by the very presence before him. Eames' grin only seemed to widen. The man straightened up and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans all too casually.

"I work here." the reply was nonchalant and friendly, but held an annoying 'you didn't know?' tone. Arthur suddenly felt a nostalgic need to punch the forger in the jaw. "What about you? I'd expect you to be a Harvard kid. Oxford, even." There was some genuine surprise in Eames' voice as he said this. Finally a little less flustered, Arthur managed a composed glare. The other man looked even more pleased.

"Seriously. Why are you here?" he stressed. No, he wasn't keen on seeing this man. Not right now. Not after the job they did together and the resulting months of turmoil. He thought he was done with the forger, but here he was, looking infuriatingly in place somewhere he should not be. Why the hell was he carrying a messenger bag? It looked stuffed with papers. And a blazer? A very true-to-Eames ugly brown piece, but a blazer nonetheless. Still, he looked just how the point man remembered.

Eames chuckled and pulled a card out of his pocket before handing it over to Arthur. The point man read it over, and was again beyond words. It read, in plain black;

Prof. Oliver MacKinnon, PhD
University of Toronto
Faculty of Arts and Science

"What the hell, Eames?" Arthur demanded, trapped somewhere between shocked and impressed by what great lengths the other could go to. He looked to the older man, who grinned again. He would give anything to slap that look off of his face.

"You look like you've had a bad day. The pub on campus fires up the taps at four, if you want to join me." When Arthur fixed him with a displeased stare, Eames raised his hands in surrender and let his grin melt into a completely innocent and hopeful smile. "Just an offer. I don't have any expectations. Besides, you might get more out of me once I've downed a pint."

There was a moment of hesitance in Arthur. God, if Mal know that this man was in the same country, she would hunt him down like a fox. Dom would be pretty unimpressed, too. But, as he looked up from the business card at the man it belonged to, he wavered in body and in reason. Drama notwithstanding, he missed Eames. Nothing else in life felt quite as challenging as it did before he had met the forger. He missed being kept on his toes. Slumping his shoulders, he nodded.

By the time they reached the pub, Arthur was smiling. It was that sort of reluctant smirk that very few could get out of him after a horrible day. But there it was, and all it took was Eames' stupid anecdote about how he became a widely popular professor in the first week by out-drinking most of his students. It was just so easy to believe, because, after all, it was Eames. When they sat down at a far table, drinks in hand, the forger looked even more like the man Arthur used to know. Relaxed and irritatingly amused by everything.

"So what are you doing here, darling?" The question was raised quickly, yet quite casually. Arthur shifted in his seat, not too keen about disclosing details on a job with someone who had nothing to do with it.

"Finishing my degree."

"And the real reason?" Eames smiled into his glass before taking a hefty sip of beer. He seemed to beam under the dirty look that was fired his way.

"Work." Arthur finally replied, his tone suggesting that he wanted to keep it vague. "Same with you?"

"Of course. Would you think for a second that I actually had a PhD?" As this was said, Eames' voice was smartly quieted a little. Yet, he was no less thrilled with himself. "I do teach classes right now, though. It's surprisingly easy to bullshit your way through teaching philosophy to the naïve youth."

"How is that surprising? It's philosophy. A discipline founded entirely on bullshit." Arthur said with a snort, idly fidgeting with the glass of vodka tonic in front of him. His heartbeat was throbbing in his ears, and he began avoiding Eames' eyes a little. "What class do you teach?"

"I instruct two of them. Human Nature, and Philosophy of Human Sexuality."

Arthur almost choked on his drink mid-sip as Eames stated the latter class. "Not surprising, either." he coughed, managing a smile. "Are you turning predictable on me, Mr. Eames?"

"Not in the least. If you'd like a private lesson, I'd happily prove that to be completely false."

Okay. Arthur should just put down his drink before he choked to death on alcohol. As always, Eames hadn't missed a beat, or the chance to see the point man utterly flustered. At the same time, the comment (and shamelessly suggestive tone) unnerved him a little. He wasn't sure if he was ready to go toe-to-toe with the forger right now, when it came to flinging innuendos around. He sighed to buy a second or two and regain his composure. "Eames-"

"Listen," He was cut off before he could start awkwardly rambling. Thank God. "It's okay. I feel bad about… last time." Eames sounded, strangely enough, uneasy as he tried to explain himself. "I didn't mean any harm, and I know you didn't either. It was just supposed to be fun and all that."

"And it was," Arthur replied, voice almost too quiet to be heard. He avoided the other's gaze again and forced an awkward smile. "I'm sorry it had to end on such an awful note. And I don't blame you."

A tense silence settled over them, during which Eames shifted in his chair and clutched the pint before him with both hands. His knuckles were white. "You still work with the Cobbs?"

"They're all I work with, still." Another silence, which Arthur scrambled to fill. "Mal got over it, so don't worry. She knows she overreacted."

"Overreacted?" Thankfully, Eames sounded a little amused. "She broke my nose when she found out."

The younger man winced just slightly. It was not a fond memory, that explosive argument. Mal, in all her Mother Bear glory, had not taken the realization of their brief affair well. The last time he saw Eames, the forger had a bloody nose and was swearing a blue streak. He was gone the next day, and it was just a miracle that they had finished the job before all that happened.

"I'm sorry."

"Do you think I would have bothered talking to you if I blamed you for that?" These words reassured Arthur a little, as did Eames' smile. "And, judging by the fact that you didn't kill me on sight, we're okay?"

Arthur looked away again, losing a battle against his own smile. He must be the biggest idiot in the world, sitting here and drinking with Eames when an hour ago he was living with the fact that he would never see the forger again. It was, he hated to admit, a nice surprise. One that he didn't want to waste. Maybe Mal didn't have to know. "We're okay." he replied after a moment.

"Okay enough for you to tell me what kind of job you're rooting up information for?" Eames' voice was hopeful and just a little bit playful, and he leaned forward a little. Arthur rolled his eyes before looking back to the other man.

"You should know better," he uttered dryly. Eames was unfazed.

"I should, but here we are." Another one of those irritating grins. "I love it when you look at me like that."

A little taken back, Arthur straightened shoulders. "Like what?"

"Like you want to deck me and then shag my brains out. I missed that look."

Arthur was on his feet in an instant, a thin smile on his face. The game, most certainly, had resumed from last time. And he had to get out before he got caught up in the thrill of it. He had work to do, after all, and couldn't get distracted so soon. He pulled his coat on and picked up his bag. "Have a good evening, professor." he said in parting, the slightest tease in his tone. "I've got your number if I need anything."

Eames leaned back in his chair, looking mildly disappointed but not letting the playful gleam in his eyes fade. He appeared to watch Arthur closely, in a way that gave the point man familiar chills under his skin. "I'll see you in class, Mr. Cooper." he replied shrewdly as the other made his retreat.

Arthur froze in his tracks for a split second and looked over his shoulder with narrowed, questioning eyes. However, Eames was a brick wall. A smug, charming brick wall. He forced himself to keep walking, but as soon as he was out of the building, Arthur dug through his pockets desperately. Mild panic swelled in his chest as he smoothed out his crumpled class schedule on his thigh and read it over.

Wednesday – 12:10 – 1:00
Human Nature - Lecture
Prof. MacKinnon

Fuck.