A/N: Updated rating to Mature due to this chapter. Sorry if I mislead anyone, it wasn't my intent! The boys had their own ideas about how things should go, as you can imagine.

Arthur shifted gears automatically, his foot easing the clutch and his mind focusing only on the whine of the engine and the flow of traffic. And a little bit on the quiet man in the passenger seat next to him. He knew Eames was processing, he'd had to do the same thing. But he just looked so alone and it was killing Arthur to watch him look out the window and try to appear as if he wasn't trying to rebuild his entire life. When they reached a stoplight, Arthur glanced over at him and he was staring out the passenger window. Or possibly staring at the passenger window. It was hard to say. He watched Eames's fingers twitch slightly on his thigh, a leftover from when he quit smoking, and Arthur did something he'd wanted to do for a long time when he saw that happen. He took his hand off the gear shift and wrapped it around Eames's. He kept his eyes straight ahead, to give Eames privacy if he needed it, but he didn't let go. His heart thrilled when he felt Eames give his fingers a small squeeze back, and when he needed to shift gears, he took Eames's hand with him, resting it on the gear shift underneath his hand, and they cycled through the gears together.

When they pulled up to the small house and Arthur killed the engine, he drew Eames's hand up to his mouth and pressed a kiss into the palm. Eames's fingers curled around Arthur's cheek, and he slid his hand to grasp the back of Arthur's neck and pull him forward. They sat breathing each other's air for a few seconds, Arthur was too close to focus on anything but Eames's lips, and he subconsciously wet his own with his tongue.

"Bloody hell," Eames whispered, then closed the last few centimeters and kissed him. Arthur kissed him back, pulling Eames's bottom lip into his mouth and tracing it with his tongue. When Arthur made a move to get closer, to put his hands over every square inch of Eames and take him apart, he was jabbed in the gut by the gear shift. He grunted and pulled back enough to grin at Eames.

"You know, I have a whole house just feet from where we're sitting."

"Yeah?" Eames said, one corner of his mouth raised in a smirk, "You don't want to snog in the driveway like teenagers?"

"Yes," Arthur nodded seriously. "I absolutely do."

Eames laughed. "Come on," he said, giving Arthur one more peck on the mouth. "Inside, then."

Arthur couldn't stop the stupid smile that spread over his face and as he fitted the key in the lock he looked back over his shoulder to see Eames staring at his ass. Eames met his gaze with a look that pooled heat in his belly and he couldn't open the door fast enough. He looked back once more as he swung the door open, but instead of the playful desire he expected to see on Eames's face, he was met with a look of alarmed concern. Eames's eyes swept the front of the house and he took a step back. Arthur felt adrenaline dump ice water in his veins and he spun around, his hand immediately going for the handgun in his shoulder holster. He saw what had Eames's back up-the light was on in the living room. He should have realized right away that the drapes had been drawn, stupid, stupid! He raised the gun and flipped the safety off before easing into the house, Eames at his back.

"Woah, hey, easy," came the voice from inside.

Arthur froze. "Paul?"

"Yeah, it's me," he said, hands raised. He stood in Arthur's living room in low slung jeans and a soft gray t-shirt which hugged biceps Arthur knew all too well. "Don't shoot me, ok?"

Arthur realized he was still pointing the gun at him and flipped the safety back on. Then he lowered it but didn't put it back in the holster yet. He could feel Eames behind him doing the same. He took a few more steps inside, Eames closing the door behind them. "What are you doing here? How did you even know this is where I was?"

Paul frowned and lowered his hands. "I went looking for you. You didn't come back to the apartment, and I started to worry you were dead somewhere."

Arthur was immediately defensive. "I told you I was leaving, I said I didn't know exactly when I'd be back, and you were the one who decided-"

"Yeah, well I didn't know you were never coming back."

Arthur realized he was getting far more emotional than the situation called for, probably because Eames was standing silently behind him, not close enough for comfort. He took a breath and said, calmly, "How did you find me?"

Paul shrugged. "I hired a PI and he gave me this address."

"A PI?!" Arthur gaped. "You hired a PI, and they actually found me? Who?"

"That's not really the fucking point Arthur, is it. The point is you have a secret house in America."

"Well I'm fucking American, I didn't know it was a big deal." Arthur's sarcasm probably wasn't helping to calm the situation down.

"No, of course it's not a big deal," Paul said viciously. "How could it be a big deal when I didn't know anything about it! I'm starting to think there's a lot you didn't tell me."

Arthur could feel the anger stiffening his muscles when suddenly Eames stepped up from behind him. "Ok, I think that's enough."

Both Arthur and Paul turned to look at him. He'd put his gun away, but Paul was scowling now. "You think it's enough, do you?" he sneered.

"Yes," Eames said simply. "It's none of your business, so you can piss off."

"Oh, really? How do you figure it's none of my business?" Paul was getting louder, but Eames stayed the same calm volume.

"Because he didn't tell you. When it becomes your business, he'll tell you and then you'll know." Then his voice lowered to something just this side of dangerous. "Until then, you get what he gives you and you be bloody grateful to get it."

Paul blinked. "Sorry, but who the fuck are you? I don't believe Arthur ever mentioned you," he said with a touch of threat.

"Someone who knows about the secret house in America."

Paul bristled and his hands clenched into fists. He looked decidedly like he'd like to take a swing at Eames, and Eames looked decidedly like he'd like him to try it. Paul seethed for a moment, then decided he'd had enough. He stalked toward the door, but on his way past Eames, he stopped and slowly turned to face him. His eyes blazed, a muscle in his jaw flexed. Eames met his gaze intensely.

"Don't do it, mate."

Fury radiated from Paul, but then he pushed past Eames and out the front door, grabbing his bag on the way out. The door slammed so hard the house rattled. Arthur glanced apprehensively at Eames. There was still tension in the air, and Eames was radiating real anger, breathing hard and staring straight ahead. Arthur holstered his gun and took a hesitant step toward him, then another. Eames was a solid wall of muscle and Arthur could see the pulse pounding in his neck. Arthur eyed the lightly stubbled spot that he had kissed a thousand times and knew would make Eames melt. At least, his Eames would. The thought made Arthur pause and Eames turned to meet his eyes. How could he do this? It was a different man in front of him than the one he knew. Wasn't it? Eames's face was hard, with a bitter twist to his beautiful lips, but his eyes...his eyes were the same as he'd always known. There was a river of uncertainty running through them and Arthur felt himself soften. He remembered the fevered groping that had happened in this very house the night before they went under, and that same spot drawing his lips then too. He let himself drift closer, but still not close enough to touch. He could feel Eames's body heat, their clothes brushing together, but the only point of contact between them was Arthur's lips softly tasting the pulse point on Eames's neck. He stayed there, breathing in the familiar/brand new scent of the man he loved, letting them forget and remember together. He felt Eames relax in degrees, his breathing slowing, his hands coming up to rest on Arthur's waist. Arthur breathed his relief out in a rush and he could feel Eames's skin break into goosebumps. He ran his hands gently up Eames's chest, palming over his nipples and resting on his broad shoulders. His lips on Eames's neck turned possessive, using teeth and tongue to make Eames groan before working on sucking a bruise into his skin.

Eames threaded his fingers in Arthur's hair and pulled his head away. His eyes swept Arthur's face before he devoured his mouth, licking into him hungrily. Arthur tried to keep up while Eames walked him backward to the bedroom. When Eames kicked the door shut, Arthur pushed him roughly up against it, caging Eames between his arms, their equal height turning the drag of his body up against Eames sweet torture. Eames worked Arthur's tie, alternating between untying the knot and using it to pull him forward. Arthur slid his thigh in between Eames', gasping as he rocked them together.

"God," Arthur breathed as he unbuttoned Eames's shirt, carefully sliding each one open and reverently peeling back the fabric to reveal his tattooed torso. "You are so perfect," he whispered into his skin, running his tongue over swirls of ink and sliding the shirt down his arms.

Eames responded by flipping them smoothly and pressing Arthur against the wall, capturing his mouth as he divested him of tie, jacket, holster, and vest before he let out a growl and ripped Arthur's shirt apart, buttons pinging around the room. He ran his broad palms over Arthur's pale skin, thumbing his nipples into hard nubs and sucking his bottom lip into his mouth roughly. He pulled back, sucking on his lip until it released with a soft sound and he looked into Arthur's face. Arthur wasn't sure what he looked like, but Eames was fucking gorgeous. His pupils were blown, his breathing hard, and he was looking at Arthur like wanted to take him apart. Eames gripped Arthur's ass, pulling him flush up against his erection and Arthur felt a moan tear out of him.

Arthur fumbled for Eames's belt, but Eames pushed his hands away and undid Arthur's instead. Eames slid his hands under Arthur's loosened waistband and into the back of his boxer briefs while mouthing at his neck, collarbone, and chest. Eames slid his way down Arthur's body, pressing hot, frantic kisses into his pale skin and pulling his pants and underwear with him as he sank to his knees. Arthur was so hard he hurt, and he bit his lips as he sprang free, biting back the moan the rush of air against him caused. It was startled out of him a second later when Eames swallowed him down expertly all the way to the root.

"Holy fuck...Eames," Arthur swore, leaning his head back against the wall and closing his eyes against the perfect sight in front of him and rocking into the feel.

"Nngh, that feels...ah...so good," he groaned, his hips coming forward involuntarily. Eames slammed them back and held them still while he worked, bobbing his head in time to Arthur's panted breaths. He didn't let up, his tongue was perfect and the suction was perfect and holy shit he was good at this. In fact, he was almost too good at this.

"Hey," Arthur breathed, running his fingers through Eames's hair, "slow down." Eames didn't hear him, and since Arthur was having trouble formulating thoughts himself, he didn't really blame him. "Eames...ah, god...Eames!" he panted, "slow down."

Eames met his eyes, but he didn't slow down. It was fast and brutal, Arthur hitting the back of his throat on almost every stroke. "Jesus...Eames, you gotta slow down." Eames glared at him and sucked harder. Arthur placed a hand on his shoulder, alarmed. "Eames...stop."

He didn't stop. "Eames, stop!" Arthur shoved at him and Eames froze, releasing him. His face was a chaos of fear and anger and hurt and Arthur's heart broke a little. "Hey, it's alright," Arthur promised. He sunk down in front of Eames and he gathered him close, praying he wouldn't push him away. Eames froze for a second, then buried his face in Arthur's neck and clung to him, his breathing ragged. "It's alright," Arthur murmured, "it's gonna be alright."

They knelt together on Arthur's bedroom floor, their harsh breaths the only sound in the room, Arthur holding him tightly and dusting small kisses onto his temple. Arthur stroked his hair, his shoulders, his back, letting him know that he was there and that he wasn't going anywhere. When Eames finally pulled back, the scared and sorrowful look he gave Arthur almost destroyed him. He had never wanted anything more than he wanted the broken, beautiful man in front of him. He tipped a small smile at Eames and kissed him softly. Arthur cradled his face, rubbing his thumb over Eames's cheek and looking calmly into his stormy eyes. He kissed him once more, sweetly, before taking his hand and pulling him to his feet.

Arthur led him over to the bed, making him sit while he slowly and carefully removed the rest of their clothing, dotting kisses wherever he exposed Eames's warm skin. He whispered promises and reassurances in between kisses, taking his time, and stripping away more than clothes. He threw out all the old knowledge, relearning Eames's body as if this were their first time. Because it was their first time. Because this was real, and because he desperately wanted to know this Eames. He wanted to know which spots made his breath hitch when he licked them, and which sounds he could wring from Eames when he ran his fingers over him. He cataloged them all, memorizing, cherishing. It was painfully perfect and exactly what he'd wanted every time he looked at Eames.

"Arthur," Eames begged, and Arthur knelt above him, looking down at the sweaty, writhing mess he'd turned Eames into. Eames reached for him and Arthur felt his skin sizzle wherever Eames touched him. Every finger stroke, every sigh across his skin, every brush of Eames's lips made him spin out of control. He captured Eames's wrist and brought it to his mouth, rubbing his lips over the thin skin there, then nosing his palm open and laving a wide stripe of his tongue across it. He did the same to his own hand, then he wrapped their hands around both of them, sliding their lengths together and making them both groan.

"I don't want you anywhere but right here," Arthur insisted, his voice low in Eames' ear. "Do you hear me? I want your head so full of me, right here, right now, that you can't think of anything else."

Eames whispered, "Specificity," against Arthur's lips, before capturing his mouth and kissing him within an inch of his life. He arched into Arthur, and Arthur kept it slow, his strong strokes drawn out and making Eames buck into his grasp. They ground together, sometimes panting into each other mouths and sometimes swallowing the small cries that eked out, tongues sliding together. Their breaths sped up, their hands sped up and Arthur squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating on Eames. He knew Eames was close, his thrusts becoming frantic.

"Arthur...", Eames said, his voice breaking on the word.

"Oh, fuck, Eames," Arthur rasped. God, his fucking voice.

"Darling-" Eames rumbled in his ear, and Arthur was gone. Sound whited out, and the world around him fell away as he shattered into a million pieces. He vaguely heard Eames cry his own release a few seconds later, but he could only barely manage to collapse mostly next to him instead of directly on top of him.

He lay gasping with his face buried in the pillow and his arm trapped uncomfortably underneath him. He couldn't have cared less.

"Gnnnnngh..." Arthur groaned, the sound muffled by the pillow. "Was it good for you?" he slurred.

He felt more than heard Eames chuckle.

"Very."

Arthur rolled so he could see his face. Eames looked back at him, his eyes warm and a small smile playing on his lips. Arthur still couldn't feel his legs. "Holy shit, Mr. Eames," he said, awed and reverent.

At the phrase, Eames sucked in a ragged breath and for a split second, he looked overwhelmed. Arthur felt a flash of concern, but he gave Arthur a wobbly smile. "Holy shit, yourself," he said back, raising a hand to cup Arthur's jaw and trace his thumb over Arthur's lower lip. "Don't go anywhere," he whispered and moved to stand.

"Zero chance of that happening, promise," Arthur said sleepily. He must have dozed off because the next thing he knew, Eames was wiping him down with a wet cloth, the act intensely intimate despite what they'd just done. He pressed a slow kiss onto the flat plane of Arthur's belly.

He disappeared for a moment, but when Eames came back and slid in next to him, Arthur didn't give him a choice. He tucked himself behind the larger man, draping himself over him and reveling in the way they fit together. Eames's head was pillowed on Arthur's bicep and Arthur nosed the back of his neck, breathing in the scent of sweat and sex and Eames. He would never, ever get enough of that smell. He would also never get enough of touching Eames, tracing his tattoos, smoothing over the hair on his chest, touching the velvety skin at his hip, right above his thigh, feeling the muscles in his stomach bunch when he skimmed his fingers over them.

"That tickles," Eames mock scolded, capturing Arthur's wandering hand and bringing it to his lips. He kissed the pads of each finger before sighing softly and settling back against Arthur. Arthur listened to him breathe for a while, scared to break the spell between them but desperate to make sure he was ok.

"Why weren't you there?" Eames finally whispered into the dark. Arthur started at the sound of his voice, concern flooding through him. What on this earth could have possibly happened to make him sound so lost?

"You mean, in limbo?" Arthur blinked in confusion. "I wasn't? Like, not even a projection of me?"

Eames shook his head slightly. "I couldn't remember anything. I met Saito, but I didn't know who he was. Hell, I didn't know who I was," he said wearily. "It was years. It just went on and on..." His voice trailed off.

"Will you tell me about it?" Arthur asked quietly.

Eames shook his head more forcefully. "I don't want to remember it." He craned his neck around to look Arthur in the eye. "I want to make new memories."

"Yes, god yes," Arthur thought and brushed a kiss over his lips. But he felt guilt gnaw at his gut and knew that if he didn't tell Eames now, it was the same as lying about what had happened to him.

"You were there in mine," he told him, dropping kisses onto Eames's shoulder instead of looking at him.

"Was I? Did you know me?"

'Uh, yeah, we were," Arthur swallowed, "We were together. Like, married, together," he risked a glance at Eames, who looked fascinated in the dim light. "We lived next to Dom and we helped with the kids, and it was," Arthur shrugged a shoulder, "Well, it was nice." He flashed a quick smile at him. "I have all these great stories about stuff that happened to us." It felt like a confession.

"Will you tell me some of them?" Eames said softly.

Arthur shook his head immediately. "I don't want to remember it," he said. "I want to make new memories."

He'd never spoken anything truer in his life. And when Eames kissed him, it felt like coming home.

A/N: Really, though? A private investigator found Arthur?!