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Arthur had to check about three times to make sure the hallway was deserted before edging towards the door. Through the blinds, he peered into the dark office and tried to detect movement. 'Professor Mackinnon' was in the middle of a two-hour seminar, but he didn't trust that timetable for a minute. Like hell he would freely conform to any schedule that he didn't make himself. Arthur just had to work with the knowledge that Eames could pop up at any moment, and dedicate himself to working as quickly as possible.

It took about half a minute of fiddling with a pick for him to crack the lock on the office door. Looking over his shoulder again, he slipped inside and closed the door behind him. The office was rather small, which seemed usual for new professors, but somehow its owner kept the restricted space neat. There were some papers and coffee mugs scattered about the small desk, but otherwise it was in some semblance of order. Arthur was almost impressed. The forger was approaching adulthood, finally.

It was a simple office, with a desk against the wall, a chair, some file cabinets and a tiny closet. The desktop computer looked dusty, like it hadn't been touched once. Yet the rest of the place looked fairly well lived in. Arthur moved silently, setting his bag on the floor and beginning his thorough search. Since Eames snatched his flash drive last week, he had been determined to regain his advantage. He had to watch carefully and delve into the university database to find out the other man's actual routine during the week. Much to his frustration, the forger actually kept a fairly legitimate professor's schedule. At least he could take advantage of that. The point man began digging through cabinets and drawers, seeing no sign of his flash drive. Other information, like evidence of Eames' real employment, was scarce. He did find a scribbled note tucked under some papers.

Charity dinner Friday night. Have to cancel. Let me know if you can make it on Sunday morning.
-F

Arthur digested this vague information before setting the note back in the place it was found. He then moved on, rooting through the small closet. Under a couple of jackets and bags (unceremoniously piled on the floor, predictably), the point man found a safe. This was promising. What professor kept a safe in their office? Arthur knelt down in front of the steel box, setting his ear to the door. He had plenty of experience opening combination locks, and this was no different. He couldn't help but smile as he counted clicks and turned the knob. Oh, Mr. Eames. You're letting your guard down.

When opening the heavy door, Arthur let out a sigh. What greeted him was exactly what he expected. The silver shell of a PASIV case was unmistakable. But when did the forger get his own device? He was known to always live light and never keep anything valuable with him, in case he had to disappear overnight. As he mulled this over, Arthur reached into the safe and felt around. His fingers closed around not one, but two flash drives, and his heart almost skipped a beat. Smiling to himself. He quickly pocketed them and closed the safe with a quiet 'click'. As he got to his feet, Arthur was immobilized by light flooding the dark office. The door had been thrown open, and he was caught deer-in-headlights style as a campus security guard stormed in.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" the man demanded, blocking the whole doorway with his large, formidable frame. Arthur stammered something incoherent, taken completely off guard and panicking as he was instantly trapped. As the guard asked again insistently and with less patience than before, Arthur tensed. A million possible lies flitted in his head, but words failed him.

"Ah, Mason!" The voice of a savior, amused yet urgent, broke into the tense air, and the next thing Arthur knew, Eames was slipping through the doorway past the guard. "Did you find it?" Genuine concern was all over his face. God bless his brilliant acting.

"Y-yes." Arthur managed with a nervous grin, pulling a memory stick out of his pocket. "In the leather jacket, like you said."

"Oh thank God." the 'professor' breathed, physically deflating with relief. He turned to the security guard with a smile. "I sent a student here to fetch something. Sorry if there was a mix-up." Despite this reassurance, the guard looked skeptical.

"Students aren't really allowed-"

"I know, I know." Eames chuckled, almost dismissing it. "Sorry. Won't happen again. Mason was just being a great help."

"It's what I do." Arthur added, his smile coming a lot more easily this time.

The guard looked between them for a moment before shaking his head and moving out of the doorway, vanishing down the hall. He clearly didn't care enough to press the issue. The moment he was fully gone, Eames' expression shifted to something between annoyance and like he was fighting a fit of giggles. It was pretty damn weird. The forger swung the door almost closed and stepped over, making Arthur tense and take a tentative step back. But he found his back against the wall.

"You owe me." Eames said, amusement overriding anger for the moment. As usual, he leaned a little too far into Arthur's personal space. The point man tensed again, but sneered.

"You stole this from me to begin with. And how did you know I was here?" Yes, he was fully willing to ignore the fact that he had broken into Eames' office to recover the stolen information, which he himself had stolen from the school. Much like a child, he held the stick behind his back in a clenched fist. Patient to a near fault, Eames held a hand out.

"Kudos to you for breaking in, pet. But I'm not making a game out of this." The only thing that cut the sudden seriousness in his voice was the smile on his face.

"Yes you are." Arthur accused, his hackles raised like a cornered feline. That damned smile widened.

"Okay, I am. But I'm winning, and you need to yield for this round."

Arthur eyed the half-open door, and the space between him and the adjacent wall. He could slip away from the other and make a run for it, if he was quick enough. And he knew for a fact that he was a little more agile than the forger when it came down to it. As if reading his mind, Eames leaned his other hand against the wall to block him even more. The space between them was uncomfortably narrow, and Arthur had to flatten his back against the wall just to get an extra inch away from the other.

"Not very appropriate teacher behavior." he breathed, suddenly very aware of the undercurrent running between them. His skin was crawling and his heartbeat was thundering in his ears. Against his better judgment, his mind was trying to take a downright filthy turn. And it was not helped when Eames threw a most predatory smirk at him. This game was getting a little too heavy.

"Well, I think we both know I'm not at much risk of getting fired." The words forced Arthur to press back harder just to avoid the shiver. It was like they had never parted; Eames was just as suggestive, shameless and alluring as always. "So, darling, if you don't mind,"

Arthur didn't want to get into this. He didn't have the willpower to play this game when he was here to work, because the line between the two goals would most definitely blur. So, with a sour look, he reluctantly lifted his hand and dropped the flash drive into Eames' waiting palm. "There."

"And the other one." The smugness in the forger's voice almost earned him a kick between the legs. Arthur attempted to maintain his innocence on the second theft, but eventually cracked under the other's gaze. With a huff, he fished the second one out of his pocket and handed it over.

"Happy?" he hissed.

"Delighted." Eames put both drives into the back pocket of his trousers and straightened up. Although he didn't step away, he gave Arthur all the space he needed to leave. "Don't look at me like that, darling. You know it's just business. If we were playing for the same team, there would be nobody I would trust more with important information."

Arthur relaxed, but didn't move. His limbs were failing him. "So you are working for the university president." His voice dripped with distaste, and perhaps even disappointment. "What can a forger possibly do for him?" Eames seemed to take this as flattery, as if assuming that Arthur's displeasure with the arrangement was a confession of his secret love for him.

"I can't tell you that." The affection in Eames' voice was getting annoying very quickly. "But I look forward to the challenge you have ahead of you. I implore you to go in as prepared as possible, if you can manage it. Though, I regret knowing I am working to ensure your failure. We made a good team, working together." A thoughtful pause, and another smirk. "Do you miss dreaming with me, love?"

Arthur was silent for a moment, as his throat instantly dried. He hated losing, and right now he was stacking up a terrible record with Eames. He needed to stop playing around. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he forced himself to relax; right down to the irritation on his face, which faded away.

"Yes." he admitted, suddenly very quiet. Eames had probably expected something completely different, because his smirk wavered and his head tilted just a little with curiosity.

"It was never boring, was it?" the forger asked, leaning his hand on the wall again. By the look in his eyes, he was obviously letting himself get reeled in.

"Never." Arthur managed a thin smile. "I don't know what was more fun; the job, or getting to shoot you in the head when you got ballsy."

"Straightforward, pet. I was straightforward with my affection."

"You were insufferable."

There was a beat. A brief moment of stillness. The agonizing tension before the break. The entirety of existence melted into an incomprehensible, meaningless mess, and all that Arthur was aware of was the slamming of his body against the wall, and the violent, desperate clash of lips. He was suddenly clawing at Eames' hair with one hand, trying to hold him close in case he dared try and pull away. He felt himself being nearly crushed between the wall and the other man, and he delighted in the heat and the pressure. They instantly fell into their old ways; the heated battle of tongues and teeth that only seemed to exist to establish power between them. Shivers raked down Arthur's spine as he pressed against Eames, holding on to him for dear life as he was sure that he could not support his own weight anymore.

There was no question that it had been far too long since the last time. Neither of them yielded in the kiss, and it was a while before they felt safe enough to ease their death grips on each other. It was almost like the first time, when they had both expected the other to try and break their neck the second that caution slipped. Finally, Arthur felt fingers trying to sneak under his shirt, and he relaxed. Hands began roaming wildly, desperate to rediscover what had once been memorized. Oh God, Eames still knew all the right places to touch, even over fabric. He was being relentlessly generous with targeting these areas, knowing that Arthur was struggling to keep silent with the office door cracked open. Cruel bastard.

Mouths moved then, beginning when Arthur had to bury his face in the crook of the other man's neck to force himself to be quiet. The grinding of their hips was just too much to bear. He tensed when Eames's mouth attacked his neck, with harsh yet wonderful flashes of lips and tongue and teeth and- ohshit.

He gasped, pushing his head back against the door. It had to end right now. He told the forger to stop, though it came out as an almost nonsensical "GodEamesdon't-".

Eames was an impossible, stubborn idiot. But he had to be credited with knowing when he actually needed to back off. As if the man under his hands and mouth was suddenly blistering hot, he jerked away. It was not as prompt and graceful as hoped, however, as they soon discovered that they had been rather intricately tangled at the limbs. When they finally pulled away, Arthur had to grab the edge of the closet door to steady himself. His legs were embarrassingly weak. They were both breathless, and he noticed that Eames was doing an excellent job at hiding his disappointment.

"You were going to mark me, you idiot." Arthur hissed, glaring at the forger. As expected, the other just gave a smile and leaned his arm against the wall to support himself. He gave an almost inaudible laugh between his panting breaths.

"Sorry. Got ahead of myself, love." he admitted, his breaths grazing Arthur's ear. "I told you I missed you."

Arthur closed his eyes as he tried to compose himself and get some blood back into the upper half of his body. The quiet moment that followed offered a twinge of déjà vu. Then again, the previous experiences he could compare this to had been a little more satisfying, to say the least. That was probably what he had missed. That pause, the merciful quiet after the hurricane, as they recovered from the explosive passion. This time, there was no afterglow. Only his body screaming in disappointment. Against his better judgment, he leaned his head against Eames'.

"I missed you, too." He hated to admit it. He really did. But it was beyond his power, now. A smile tugged at Arthur's lips, although they felt like they were swelling. "Don't you have a class right now?" He secretly delighted in the sudden tension in the other man's relaxing body, before the forger heaved a sigh.

"Told them I was going for a coffee fifteen minutes ago." Eames muttered, straightening up. Arthur opened his eyes to look at him, unable to help the amusement all over his face.

"You don't even like coffee."

"I like it when it's a euphemism for 'scandalous rendezvous in my office'." Eames shot back with a grin, bloodflow obviously having returned to his brain. Arthur tried very hard to stifle his laugh, but couldn't help himself. Oh hell, he was giddy. Goddamn Eames had reduced him to a giggling idiot all over again. Trying to hide it, he leaned forward and embraced the other again. This time it was a little more chaste. Though, much to his satisfaction, the other man had flinched as if bracing to be struck. Arthur laughed quietly into his shoulder a little bit before calming himself.

"Go back. We'll meet up again." He said, tightening his hold before releasing Eames, who looked like he was reluctant to believe that promise. The point man let himself become the smirking fool, this time. "I know where you're staying - I found it out last week."

"That doesn't shock me." Eames chuckled. He did pause, however, as if unsure if he was making a smart decision. They both knew this was probably a downright stupid plan to even be in the same room together, much less making plans to do this sort of thing. But neither of them could exercise the self-control needed to stop themselves, now. It was just a damn miracle that they weren't shagging on the desk that very moment. "Alright. Hunt me down when you're ready." He said this quietly while lifting a hand to push loose strands of Arthur's hair back into place.

Smiling, Arthur took his leave. It was a miracle that he was composed and able to walk on steady legs, because he needed to get out before his willpower cracked again. He grabbed his bag on the way out, glancing back at Eames before he moved out into the hallway. This was such a bad idea. His heart was both fluttering and slamming against his ribcage like a beast fighting for freedom. Sleeping with the enemy. The most genius, idiotic concept to ever cross his mind.

As he walked briskly out of the building, Arthur chewed on his lower lip. It was difficult to keep from laughing. He finally unclenched his fist, and let the two memory sticks roll in his palm. Poor Eames. He loved having his ass grabbed far too much to know when he was being pickpocketed. He had also forgotten that Arthur never, ever lost sight of his goals, no matter what distractions were being thrown his way.