"Shit!" Arthur muttered under his breath. Had he really told Eames he loved him? The angry look on the man's face was confirmation enough for Arthur. He knew he should never agreed to do this. He should have walked out the door the second Mal introduced Eames as a member of their team. The forger was trouble, at least where Arthur was concerned.

"Do you know what this means?"Eames asked after a few moments passed. He was still sitting on the bed and his entire body was tensed with anger.

Arthur's control snapped. "You have no right to be pissed Eames," he growled. "In fact how is any of this even your business? Yo-"

Eames leapt up, interrupting Arthur. "What the the hell were you thinking going into dream-share?! Do you have a fucking death wish, Arthur?"

Arthur blinked. Even with a mind as brilliant as his he couldn't follow Eames' train of thought, and it certainly didn't help that the forger was now close enough for Arthur to see the faint smattering of freckles across his nose. "What the fuck are you-"

"The sleep talking."

Sleep talking. Every dream-worker's biggest fear, but not something Arthur had ever struggled with. Growing up in six different foster homes made it nearly impossible for the point man to let his guard down, even in sleep. Mal had been shocked by the state of his subconscious when she had gone under to help him militarise and found her job had already been done. Arthur was always lucid, the only times he felt safe enough to sleep fully was when he was eighteen and curled up with Eames.

"I don't sleep talk."

"Please, Arthur, don't fucking lie to me. You always used to talk in your sleep, don't insult my intelligence." Said Eames, now sounding more tired than angry.

"I what?" Arthur gaped.

"You were always mumbling about something or another back then. I thought it was bloody hilarious. It's not remotely funny now."

Suddenly it made sense to Arthur. He talked in his sleep, when he was with Eames, because that's when he really slept. "I need a shower," he muttered starting toward the en suite bathroom.

"Arthur," it was so quiet the point man might have imagined it, but despite this he looked back at the man standing in the middle of the beige hotel room. His hair was mussed and his eyes were clouded with something Arthur couldn't place. "Did you mean it?" Eames whispered, even more quietly than when he began.

Arthur smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes, this was it, he'd tried working with Eames, he'd tried casual, but clearly the were not among his options. "Well, I didn't keep this shirt because I like AC/DC."

"Darling," Eames grinned, nearly purring the word.

"Drop it Eames," Arthur said as he turned away. "I can't do this. You've obviously got a wife waiting for you, and despite fucking me in your spare time, you love her, and you had no right to keep that from me. Now I'd like you to leave."

"Wife?!"Eames coughed. "Are you out of your mind, Arthur?"

Arthur's expression hardened to a glare as he replied, "I heard you on the phone."

"Arthur I was talking to Mal." The forger said.

"You married Mal? What about Dom?"

Eames approached his confused lover, exasperation clear in his voice. "About how bloody confusing you are." He stopped a foot away from Arthur, his expression now quietly amused.

"Not to mention I'm a flaming homosexual who hasn't been in love with anyone except your sorry self since I was bloody twenty-one years old!" With that Eames gently pushed back Arthur's bangs and dropped all his walls away for his point man to see.

"You have so much explaining to do Eames." Was all Arthur said in response, but Eames knew it was safe to lean in and and snog the other man-so he did.