Author's Note: I really don't know if I like this. Oh well. It's an update, isn't it? :D
Disclaimer: I do not own Arthur or Eames. Only the plot line is mine. :/
"Arthur, love?" Eames heard a grunt from the bed next to him. "Darling, we need to talk about something."
There was an irritated sigh as Arthur rolled over to face his boyfriend of three years...Had it really been that long? "Eames, what could possibly so important that you needed to wake me at four in the morning?" The dream team's (Yusuf's name, not his) point man yawned groggily and rubbed at his eyes.
Eames reached the short distance to grip the other man's hand, tracing lazy circles in his palm. "Love...Have-have you been feeling up to par lately? Even Yusuf feels you've been a little off, darling," Eames whispered, terms of endearment falling from his lips like curses usually did.
Arthur grunted before rolling back over. "Go to sleep, Eames."
Eames looked across the warehouse-turned-office to frown at Arthur's back. He was hunched over files, per usual, but lately he'd seemed...different. He'd eaten even less, stayed up pouring over his work even later. He was even more on-edge.
He crossed the floor to stand behind Arthur, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Love..."
The point man sighed, his shoulders loosening slightly under the forger's touch. "Eames..." He seemed to shake him self a bit. "Eames...What do you want? I'm working..."
"As you always are lately, darling. More so than usual." Eames spun Arthur around in his office chair to face him. "Arthur, love, is something wrong?"
Arthur froze for a split second before frowning. "What would make you think something was wrong?"
"Darling," Eames sighed as he sat on the point man's desk. "You seem...preoccupied, love. What is it?"
"Eames..." The point man sighed, knowing the conversation would inevitably end in a fight. "I really don't want to have this conversation; not here, not now."
"Arthur-"
"Eames. Please." The two men locked eyes, the forger nodding as he walked away.
"Later. At home."
Arthur said nothing when he opened the door to their shared apartment and found Eames sitting in the chair, coffee in hand, as if he had been expecting him. "Arthur, love."
Arthur smirked slightly and shrugged out of his jacket when the forger crossed the room to wrap his arms around the smaller man. "Eames."
They made their way over to the couch, Eames never letting go, consequently pulling Arthur onto in lap, arms around his waist. "What's wrong, darling?"
Arthur fidgeted slightly. "Nothing."
Eames tightened his grip on the other man, leaning forward to nuzzle his cheek. "Darling," he drawled. "Tell me. You know you want to."
The point man sighed, lying down so his back was flush against the Brit's chest. "Eames...do you remember our first date?"
Eames chuckled, bouncing both of them in the slightest way possible. "Of course I do, love. You thought we were going to the Smithsonian. I, on the other hand, thought we were going to a NASCAR race. We arrived home very drunk with a foam finger. Unfortunately, we were never allowed back at that museum."
The corners of the American's mouth turned up. "Yes...but I was actually referring to what you said when we walked home."
Eames smiled. "I told you I loved you, and offered to marry you then and there. And I was completely serious."
"...And I said?"
Eames ran a hand up the point man's arm. "You said that I—what was your American wording?—had to have a screw loose to be proposing on the first date."
"Well…I was just thinking that…if you still wanted to that we could…" Arthur rolled over and buried his head into Eames's chest, as if he was embarrassed.
Eames smirked, burying his face into the point man's hair. "Of course I still want to."
The younger man looked up, looking into the other man's eyes. "Really?"
"Yes, Arthur." Eames smiled wistfully at him. "Marry me, darling?"
"I thought you'd never ask."
Author's Note: Okay, Eames putting his face in Arthur's over-gelled hair? Ew…but I had to put it in—it seemed fitting. :D
Peace, Love, Mark, and Iggy.
Kierstin.