Arthur didn't stop to explain, just jerked his head. "This way." He'd memorized the layout before he left, but it looked smaller on paper. Arthur sprinted through twists and turns of the complex knowing Eames would keep up, and hit the fire emergency exit at a run, barely pausing to slither down the fire escape stairs and counting off seconds in his head. Eames landed heavily next to him and threw an uncertain grin his way. Arthur glanced at his watch, his breath coming fast. "Shit," he said, grabbing Eames's sleeve and hauling him forward. "We've gotta move." He dragged Eames behind him, directly across a parking lot and behind a low decorative landscaping wall.

"Arthur, where the hell are-"

Eames was cut off by a giant explosion behind them that ripped the front off the squat brick building. They both dropped into a defensive crouch, arms up to cover their eyes.

"Christ, pet. You sure know how to make an exit."

"Ah, fuck. I knew I forgot something," Arthur said, scowling as he watched a fireball roll out of the gaping hole.

"What?"

"Marshmallows," Arthur grinned at Eames as the light from the fire flickered across his face. Eames blinked at him before throwing back his head and laughing like Arthur hadn't heard him do since before limbo. It was a great sound.

"Fuck, you are delightful, darling." Eames hauled him in by his bulletproof vest for a quick kiss and Arthur felt his chest squeeze.

He cleared his throat. "Come on, I stole Paul's car. It should get us to the airport."

"Where are we going?"

Arthur tipped a cocky smile his way. "Anywhere you want."

The flight was long, uneventful, and quiet. It gave them both a chance to think, plan, and settle, and Arthur appreciated Eames giving him a chance to switch off. He focused on flying, his mind finally getting a chance to process. He felt a little emotionally wrung out and needed a breather, even from Eames. It was definitely better to have him nearby, though. He snuck a glance at his lover in the co-pilot's seat, flipping through Arthur's Moleskin and doodling small cartoons in the margins. He couldn't help the fond smile he felt tugging at his lips. Eames had been through so much. They both had. But for as often as he saw the dark, brooding side of Eames: the vestigial leftovers of a life lived alone longing for a deeper connection, he also saw the happy-go-lucky version of Eames he'd known for so long: the one who liked his job and surrounded himself with people, but kept everyone at an emotional distance. Truth be told, Arthur genuinely liked the way the two halves balanced each other out. He only hoped he'd be the one that would help Eames blur the lines between the two.

When they finally settled into a hotel room in Paris, it felt right, like a corresponding bookend to how they met. Arthur exited from the shower after washing off the dredge of travel and tried to push down the irrational thought of that meaning this was an ending. He glanced through the open balcony door and saw the back of Eames as he looked out over the night, the moonlight trickling over his hair, shoulders, his arms braced against the railing. His fingers were unconsciously propped as if he were holding a cigarette, which he seemed to notice the same time Arthur did, as he curled his fingers into a fist and then relaxed them again. Eames drew a deep breath of the balmy night air and rolled his shoulders. Arthur's fingers twitched also, the desire to touch him catching him by surprise. Then he remembered that he could, any time he wanted, and he approached Eames, the towel wrapped around his waist not enough to stop the goosebumps that rose when he exited into the night air. He enveloped Eames from behind, resting his cheek against the bunched muscles of Eames's back and held on. Eames drew his fingers idly over Arthur's arms and looked at the sky.

"Nice night," Eames murmured.

"Mmm," Arthur conceded. He drew lazy circles over Eames's stomach with his thumbs, then dipping down to tuck them into his waistband and spreading his fingers over Eames's hips. "Come to bed?"

Eames shifted to look at Arthur's face and caught sight of his naked torso. "Oh, hello," he said with a grin, turning in Arthur's arms. Arthur felt the warmth of his gaze flood down his limbs, warming him all over. Eames cupped his hands over Arthur's jaw and stroked his thumbs over Arthur's cheekbones. Arthur looked back at him, his heart in his throat, for as long as he could. The intensity in Eames's gaze was too much. He was too close, too real, too perfect and all of a sudden Arthur couldn't get enough air. He closed his eyes before the ridiculous tears he could feel brewing threatened to spill over. He reached blindly to kiss Eames, taking every heart-stopping moment he'd thought he'd never see Eames again and pouring them into the kiss. He twisted his fingers in the fabric of Eames's shirt and licked into his mouth, wet and hot and messy. The touch of Eames's tongue against his caused them both to groan and the sound spun up Arthur's desire even more. He tugged Eames even closer and pressed up against him and tried to tell him with his body how very much Eames meant to him. Every second pouring over the computer, every bullet fired in his path, every charge laid and detonated were fractions of the extremes that Arthur would go to keep from losing Eames. He had to know how Arthur felt, he had to.

Eames was kissing him back, thoroughly, passionately, and expertly turning him inside out. When Arthur broke apart for air, he rested his forehead against Eames'. "Come to bed," he said again, his voice low and wrecked. Eames shivered slightly and bit his bottom lip and Arthur had to take a step back before he tackled him and had him on the balcony and he didn't care who saw them.

Instead, Arthur took Eames's hand and walked backwards, tugging him along. He bit his own lip and listened to the low sound of want that Eames issued from his chest. Eames crowded him into the hotel room and kicking the door shut behind him. "You are wearing entirely too much clothing, darling," Eames said, running his fingers down the cool skin of Arthur's back and back up his thighs to grab his ass. He nibbled a long line of kisses down Arthur's neck and across his shoulders and Arthur focused on making his wobbly knees hold him up.

"Me?!" Arthur said indignantly. He caught Eames's shirt collar in his teeth and pulled back just to watch Eames's pupils dilate. "Well, let me fix that." With one tug, Arthur let the towel fall to the floor.

Eames pulled back and stared at Arthur.

"Good lord, darling, you are a work of art."

Arthur snorted lightly. "Says the man with actual works of art on his body who creates actual works of art with his body."

"I couldn't create anything like you, pet. Trust me. If I could, I'd be rich."

"You are rich," Arthur pointed out, working buttons on Eames's shirt and tugging it off him.

"Sofa change compared to this." He gripped Arthur's waist, hauling him up against his body. Arthur couldn't stop stroking Eames's warm skin, the broad strokes of ink and firm muscles on his lightly furred chest drew him like a magnet.

Eames toed out of his shoes and walked Arthur back to the bed. Arthur hauled himself back across the mattress, not wanting to break eye contact with Eames and watched him as he started to disrobe.

"Slower," Arthur asked, his throat dry, and Eames gave him a slow smile. He dropped his belt on the floor and thumbed the button on his waistband open.

"Like this?" Eames teased, drawing his zipper down inch by inch, and letting his trousers hang from his hips. His cloth-covered erection beckoned, begging to be touched and Arthur licked his lips.

"Yeah, like that," Arthur said, his voice sounding slightly strangled. He didn't quite sit on his hands to keep himself still, but it was a near thing.

Eames tugged down his pants and underwear to the top of his thighs, his hard cock springing free. Eames groaned quietly as he palmed himself, his eyes intense on Arthur. At that, Arthur couldn't take any more. He crawled forward to the edge of the bed and stayed on his hands and knees. He took Eames's hand away and instead pressed it to the back of his own head. Then he hooked a finger into the waistband of Eames's underwear, the fabric straining across his thighs, and pulled him closer. He couldn't stop the way his breath sped up as he nosed over the soft curls at the base of his cock. The warm gusts of air made Eames shiver. Arthur parted his lips slightly and ran them up the thick shaft, softly teasing, tasting, and when he reached the head, added in a flash of tongue that made Eames swear softly and lean his head back. Arthur grinned to himself and used his hand to pull back Eames's foreskin gently before enveloping him with his mouth. He kept his suction warm and wet and soft, the way he himself liked it, and Eames didn't seem to have any complaints either because he tightened his fingers in Arthur's hair and whispered, "Christ, darling." He spread the saliva with his hand, stroking everything he couldn't fit in his mouth and loving the sounds he was wringing from Eames. He cupped Eames's balls, fingering them lightly as he withdrew to take in just the head, sucking in fierce short bursts.

"Ah...CHRIST, darling!" Eames panted. "Stop teasing."

Arthur pulled off completely, rising to his knees and grinning. He knew his dimples were showing because when he moved closer, Eames ran his thumbs over the places he knew they were before kissing him senseless. Arthur grabbed Eames's ass and hauled them together, their cocks brushing and both of them gasping at the contact.

"Changed my mind," Eames panted. "Don't stop teasing."

"No?" Arthur whispered.

"No. More teasing," Eames whispered back, running his wide palms over Arthur's shoulders, back, and chest. He kissed up Arthur's throat and Arthur's eyes slipped closed and his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly.

"Good idea. Come here, Mr. Eames," Arthur said, low and dark. Eames kissed him once more before pulling back to shuck the rest of his clothing as quickly as possible. Arthur sat back on the pillows and waited impatiently, his untouched erection dark red and throbbing. But when Eames finally maneuvered up the bed, he took his time. He kissed his way up Arthur's legs, starting at his ankles and licking the sensitive, ticklish places on Arthur's knees. He kissed the hair on his thighs, bit softly on his hipbones, and completely ignored Arthur's aching cock in order to lick his abs, navel, and chest. When he scraped his teeth over Arthur's nipple, Arthur arched off the bed, his cock dragging deliciously across Eames's stomach. The high whine of want that slipped out only made Eames grin. He scowled back, but it made Eames grin more and lick his other nipple into hardness.

"Ok, changed my mind," Arthur gritted out. "This was a bad idea. Teasing is stupid."

Eames chuckled, and then without warning, swallowed Arthur down so fast he saw stars. Arthur's eyes rolled back in his head and he moaned as Eames sucked him down over and over, Arthur hitting the back of his throat every time.

"Oh, fuck, Eames," Arthur groaned as his entire universe shrank to ten fingers gripping his hips and two lips and a tongue making him forget all the shit that had ever kept them apart. God, how he loved this man. Those three words bubbled at the edge of his brain, but the gate between there and his lips seemed to be rusted shut. He settled for moaning Eames's name into the night and twisting his fingers in Eames's hair.

Eames pulled off with an obscene pop and grinned up at Arthur. "You sound like we might need to slow down." He kissed the inside juncture of Arthur's thigh and heaved himself up. "Because we," he kissed Arthur's lips, "are not done yet. And I," he kissed him again, "want to fuck you."

Eames could clearly see the spike of arousal that went through Arthur at his words, and yet he took his time with slow, heady kisses that took Arthur's brain offline. He opened him up with his fingers, gently, never rushing, calming Arthur down with words whispered in three different languages into his skin. Maybe Eames said fuck instead of calling it what it was, but Arthur knew because he'd never felt more cherished. Eames's big body, so powerful and thunderous in a fight, moved nimbly over his. Every rippling muscle was tightened and honed in on Arthur, every inch of Eames's focus on minute details was watching his face as he pushed into him, one centimeter at a time, with seemingly infinite control until Arthur thought he might go mad.

Arthur wrapped his legs around Eames, hooking them at the ankle and pulling Eames in just that little bit more. He buried his face in the crook of Eames's neck, sucking little nips into his sweaty skin. Eames rested his forehead on Arthur's shoulder and breathed for a second before he started to move. Tiny rocking motions at first, searching for that perfect angle and when Arthur gasped and his toes curled, he knew he'd found it. He stroked into Arthur confidently, his thighs flexing, letting the mattress take their weight, and Arthur fell apart. He moved slowly, so slowly, like his body was checking with Arthur's body, making sure, asking a question.

"Yes," Arthur babbled, "yes, yes, yes, Eames. Always you. Always yes."

It wasn't the frantic, headboard thumping sex they'd had before. It was deliberate and attentive, and so when Arthur's orgasm crashed over him he didn't have a chance to warn Eames before he came untouched, waves of pleasure rolling over him and over him like they'd never stop. Eames's answering guttural groan reverberated around the room as he emptied himself into Arthur and then clutched him to him. Their breaths slowed together, trading soft, easy kisses as they came back to life. When Eames finally moved to clean up, Arthur missed his weight keenly and he asked with his eyes for he wasn't sure what. Eames wiped them both down, kissing Arthur languidly and then finally falling back onto the bed. Arthur waited until his muscles worked before rolling and pressing himself against Eames's side, their bodies seeming to fit together even better now than before.

Arthur lay in the dark, breathing into the quiet. The gate was still rusted shut, but as they lay there, their legs tangled together, the fan above them lazily circulating air over their naked bodies, his brain shouted the words.

"So, all this stuff with the PASIVs, it's over?" Eames asked softly.

"Mm," Arthur cleared his throat. "Seems like it. I'll get up in a bit and run some checks, just to make sure." Arthur traced tattoos with a finger, dropping kisses on the places where they were marred by a scar, or where he discovered a freckle, or because he couldn't stop himself. "What should we do with all our free time now that we're not fighting off the whole world?" he asked lightly, trying to shake off the probably one-sided weightiness of the moment.

Eames groaned and stretched, rolling to face him. "I vote we find a beach somewhere and see if we can convince the world we died."

Arthur knew he was joking and tried to smile, but he felt a stab of concern. He hadn't thought about the future much beyond the last 24 hours, but Eames and dreamshare had been inexorably linked in his mind. It was something he hadn't thought about in a while, but he remembered the untethered feeling he'd had in limbo when he finally realized how much he liked his job. He knew Eames had picked up on his mood when his eyes narrowed and he lifted his head to get a better view of Arthur's face.

"Darling?"

Arthur shook his head and pushed away the unsettled feeling his words had inspired. Eames was too important and this was too good to complain about something so silly. Besides, he liked beaches. He could pretend to be dead for a while.

Eames looked at him knowingly. "Tell me. Please, Arthur."

It was his name that did it. Arthur sighed. "It's just...we completed inception, Eames. We're the hottest ticket in dreamshare right now. I haven't even had a chance to check my contacts, but I bet we could name the job, and the price, and the country, and the accommodations for the rest of our lives. Dom's at home, I don't have to go with him anywhere, and we could take jobs together. If you wanted, I mean," Arthur trailed off.

Eames blinked at him, his face carefully blank. "That's really what you want?"

Arthur hesitated, but then nodded reluctantly. "It's just...well, I know we're not talking about it, but when I was in limbo, I didn't do anything with dreamshare and I realized what a big part of me it is. It's important to me."

At Eames's blank look and heavy silence, Arthur felt a lightning bolt of clarity and the previous troubled feeling dissipated. He pressed a quick kiss to Eames's lips and gave him a genuine smile. "But," he kissed him again, "it's not as important as you. I like beaches. I could do beaches if that's what you want. I have to warn you, though, I burn easily. I'll need someone to rub sunscreen on me constantly" he teased easily. Arthur knew his priorities.

Instead of the smile he anticipated, Eames frowned. "Darling, please don't do that. We can talk about it. And what you want is important to me. I hope you'd think that much of me."

Arthur swallowed. "Yeah. Yeah, of course."

Eames looked at him fondly. "Besides, I think it's pretty bloody obvious I'd follow you anywhere."

Arthur's smile was a bit wobbly but perfectly honest. "We don't have to take any jobs you don't want. We can pick them together."

Eames smiled back easily. "Lead on."

Arthur didn't realize he was scowling at the computer until Eames leaned over the desk to plant a kiss on the twin frown lines between his eyebrows. It had been late when they'd gotten in, but Arthur hadn't been able to switch off his brain. He'd watched Eames's features settle softly into sleep until he felt like a creeper, then debated with himself the best way to wriggle out from under Eames's too-warm arm without waking him up. Luckily, Eames answered that for him by rolling in his sleep and freeing Arthur completely. For a moment, he'd thought about crawling back under Eames's arm and trying again to fall asleep, but shook himself and got up to do something useful instead. Apparently he'd been at it for a while.

"What are you trying to kill with your eyes, pet?" Eames set a mug of coffee next to him and pulled up a chair.

Arthur grunted and swung the screen towards Eames. He wrapped his hands around the mug gratefully, forcing his shoulders down away from his ears and watched Eames's face. "Thanks. What time is it?"

"Early," Eames said vaguely. He scanned the CCTV footage for a few moments before asking, "What am I looking at, exactly?"

"Here," Arthur rewound the footage a bit and pointed at the top corner of the screen. Eames could make out the figure of a man from the chest down crossing the street. His head was conveniently out of the shot, but he was wearing fatigues and a t-shirt and carrying a slim silver case.

"This is three minutes before the explosion, two blocks away."

"That sneaky little bastard. I wonder where he got that one." Eames sounded somewhat amused, and far calmer than Arthur felt as he rewound it again and watched Paul walk out of the shot.

"I'm thinking about finding out," Arthur said to his coffee mug. He waited to hear Eames's reaction, and when Eames didn't say anything, he looked up to see Eames watching him. Arthur frowned. "He is fucking around with stuff he doesn't know anything about, and he doesn't need to. He said no one else wanted the information, why does he need one?"

"Did he ever go under? Because if he did, he might not need one. He might just want one."

Arthur hesitated. "I don't know," he admitted. He hadn't actually thought of that. He'd just assumed Paul was going to use it to steal information, or sell it to god-knows-who. "Still..."

"Darling," Eames started, settling his hand lightly on the back of Arthur's neck. Arthur felt the storm inside him calm immediately and tried not to read into how he leaned into Eames's touch. He craved the closeness his casual caresses indicated even as he mentally rolled his eyes at himself. "I'm not going to tell you to leave it alone because I know you better than that. But maybe there's no need to hunt him down quite yet, hmm?"

Arthur looked at him with something like shock. "You're protecting him." It wasn't a question, and Eames didn't answer it. "Eames, this is the man that helped people kidnap you and try to extract from you and threw you under the bus when he found out you were a forger. And you're protecting him from me. For god's sake, why?"

Eames dropped his hand and shrugged. He laced his fingers behind his head and leaned back in his chair, his thighs splayed wide. His posture screamed "nonchalant" so loudly that Arthur immediately tried to listen to the whisper he was trying to cover up. The forger was trying just a little too hard to pull off "relaxed". "Let's just say that when I was strapped down and being questioned, I got the distinct impression that he and I were on the same side."

Arthur scowled but didn't miss the way Eames's eyes genuinely crinkled at the corners in response. "What side might that be?"

"The "let's-keep-the-attention-off-of-Arthur" side." At Arthur's continued scowl, Eames sighed and continued, "He convinced them that they had the man they needed, that it was not worth their time to go after you and they should just leave you alone. A sentiment which I wholeheartedly support, by the way." He tried a lighthearted grin, but Arthur just crossed his arms and waited. Eames unlaced his hands from behind his head and rubbed his palms on his thighs. Arthur waited some more. "All I'm saying, darling, is that I think he should be forgiven for being in love with you because I know how it feels."

Arthur stilled, searching Eames's face. His 'unconcerned' mask was firmly in place, but it was no match for the way Arthur had been secretly studying Eames for years. He could see the edges fraying, where Eames looked a bit nervous like he'd said too much. As the silence stretched, Arthur knew he should say something because he could see Eames was holding his breath, but the problem was that Arthur couldn't seem to formulate words. He couldn't even formulate thoughts. Eames had just brought him coffee after an amazing, mind-blowing night in bed, and then said he loved him. Arthur wanted to get out his die, but he also wanted to throw the damn thing away because Eames was here, and his, and he'd just said he loved him.

Eames shifted uncomfortably. "Well, anyway," he started, but he didn't get any farther because Arthur launched himself at him, kissing every inch of skin he could reach. He kissed Eames's eyebrows and cheekbones and temples in between capturing his lips in frantic sips.

"Fuck, take your clothes off," Arthur gasped, already tugging at the hem of his shirt.

Eames groaned against his lips. "Yes, dear."

Arthur lifted his head from Eames's shoulder and took in Eames's blissed out, sleepy face. He studied the curve of his lips, the stubble on his jaw, the faint lines on his forehead, the way his hair furled just slightly over his ears. He watched his eyelashes dust his cheeks, the slight smile that crooked his mouth, the way his eyebrows raised and one blue eye cracked open when he felt Arthur's gaze on him.

Arthur licked his lips. "Eames."

"Mmm." Eames hummed, letting his eyes drift closed again.

"Listen," Arthur began. "I don't say things like this. In fact, I make it a point to avoid scenarios where this could even be something I would say, but I will never forgive myself if I fuck this up because I didn't say anything. So, I just..." Arthur closed his eyes. "I just wanted to tell you..."

"I love you too, darling."

Arthur's eyes snapped open and he met Eames's gaze, warm and smiling and full of adoration. Arthur's heart felt over-full, a strange strangling sensation in his chest. He swallowed around the lump in his throat. He needed Eames to hear this, he needed him to know how much he meant it, even if it was hard for him to say. He wanted to give this to Eames, wanted him to have this small part of himself that he'd kept tucked away from everyone else, small and breakable and already his.

"You are so important to me," Arthur told him earnestly, holding his gaze so he would know how serious he was. "I've never felt this way about anyone else, and I don't think I could handle it if you didn't feel the same way. I want you to have...I want you to know...I..."

"Shh," Eames ran his wide palm over Arthur's side. "Hush, pet. I know, ok? I do." Eames brushed a kiss over Arthur's forehead and Arthur's eyelids slipped closed. He let his head rest against Eames's lips before pulling away.

"I love you," Arthur said fiercely. Eames's answering smile was blinding.

Arthur woke up stiff and sore, groggy from sleeping the sleep of the exhausted. He was wrapped up in the comforter like he used to do when he was a kid, and he was disappointed when he realized he was alone in the dingy hotel room. When he drug himself off the bed, though, he realized there was a Glock on the table, next to a note. Arthur smiled as he recognized Eames's neat handwriting, "Hope you slept well. The coast is clear. Come find me when you wake up, darling."

Fin.