Author's Note: Remember that semi-buried line of Eames' when they think they've failed the mission? Something about seeing his family again. I don't know if he was just joking, but I like to think he is capable of some real relationships.
Beginnings.
It took nearly a minute of pounding on the heavy metal door to wake Eames, who had fallen asleep on his dining room table. Papers were scattered in front of him, half of them drool-stained now. He raised his shaggy, unkempt head from its horizontal position, glaring with heavy lids at the source of the ruckus.
"Who's tha'?" he called out drunkenly, though it had been several hours since he'd finished off that bottle of whiskey.
"Candygram," came the muffled, and very familiar voice. Cursing, aching all over, Eames raised himself up and staggered to the door, flinging it open to reveal the trim and tidy, and overly smug face of Arthur _.
"All I see is a twat. Where's my candy?" He grumbled, as Arthur invited himself in.
"You've gained weight," Arthur said, casting an appraising glance at his former partner. "No candy today. But I have something else for you,"
Eames shut the door grumpily, shuffling back to his seat at the table.
"Where's the family?" Arthur asked casually, choosing to remain standing.
Eames ran a hand through his matted hair, looking supremely pathetic.
"Lisa took the kids," he murmured. "Work's been hard to come by, you know,"
"And you spent your share of the Saito job on gambling? Or booze? Or maybe both?" Arthur guessed in a maddeningly aloof tone.
"Fuck you, kid," Eames felt real, humorless anger boiling inside of him. "Get the fuck out of my house if this's all you got to say."
"It's not," the point man withdrew some papers from his briefcase, laying them in front of Eames on the table. "I've got a job here actually, and I was wondering if you'd want to help out."
Eames blinked, scanning the paper for information, taking an embarrassingly long time to read it.
"Without Cobb?" He said distractedly, and Arthur nodded.
"Cobb's out of the game, you know that. We're starting something new."
"We? Who else?" Eames looked up sharply.
"Ariadne of course, says so right in the paper."
"Right," Eames looked back at the document, cursing his functioning illiteracy. "Something new…"
"Are you in?"
Eames looked up at the perfectly composed thief, whose hand was extended expectantly. Reluctantly, he shook it.
"Good," Arthur said. "First things first: take a shower."
"Gladly," Eames stood up, stretching. "And there's actually a second bathroom in here, if you want to go remove that stick up your ass," flashing the younger man a grin, Eames went to put himself back together.