Disclaimer: I don't own anything!
Author's Note: There is some slash in this chapter (technically) and adult themes. Just a warning.
"Deciding whether to trust a person is like deciding whether or not to climb a tree, because you might get a wonderful view from the highest branch or you might simply get covered in sap and for this reason, many people choose to spend their time alone and indoors where it is harder to get a splinter."
-Lemony Snickett
Two—In Which There Might Be a Slight Misuse of Superpowers and a Strange Morning After
Arthur wakes up to a man in the bed. It isn't a usually undesirable circumstance; right now, his issue is that he hadn't gone to bed with a man. Of that, he was sure of. He hadn't been anywhere near drunk last night. Hell, he hadn't even been tipsy.
So Arthur slips from the bed and starts coming up with possible scenarios because otherwise, he'd be panicking like the rest of the world and Arthur Owens does not panic.
But he doesn't get a chance to really think through his scenarios because the man is shifting, all broad shoulders with ripples of tattoos. He blinks at the man standing beside the bed and says, sounding very drowsy and very British, "…You think very loudly. Especially for this early in the morning."
Arthur runs through one of his original ideas; if he has powers—"gifts" his sister used to call them—then it stands to reason that others exist with powers also. Arthur suddenly feels like he should be drawn in a panel in a comic book and the reader of his life is thinking that this was getting rather ridiculous.
"What, can you read minds or something?" Arthur asks and he doesn't have to feign annoyance. He tries to make it sound like something easily blown off. No one's found out about his power since he was nine. He intends to keep that record.
The other man chuckles, a good sound that seems like it should rumble outwards. "Nope. Good guess though."
Arthur decides that—to an outsider—drunkenness is a far larger possibility than superpowers, so he tries for that cover story. "…How drunk was I last night?"
The other man seems to think about it, on his side with one arm resting on his hip. "…Actually, you were rather sober." He grins, all mischief and confidence. "It's almost like you didn't trust me enough to be drunk with me and, let me tell you something, darling, that hurts."
"Gee, let me think why. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I went to bed with a woman last night—"
The other man moves across the bed and, before Arthur's eyes, he's changing. Broad shoulders are becoming smaller, rounder. The muscular chest slims down, filling out into plump breasts. His waist thins into a pair of very womanly hips that taper into smooth legs that can probably go to Canada. The short hair lengthens into long, shimmering strawberry blonde, the strong, stubbled jaw morphing into the soft lines of a woman's face.
She smiles as she moves off the bed, the sheets falling as she does. "I didn't hear any complaints." The voice is significantly higher and very much not British. Her arms slip around his neck and Arthur is suddenly very aware that he isn't wearing clothes.
But he remembers the shift, remembers the man he'd woken up with and instinct flares, electricity dances up and down his skin, making her (him?) jerk away, eyes suspicious.
"You're a shapeshifter." Arthur says, though, in truth, it probably could have gone without saying. The electricity is still there, below his skin, as it always is, a comforting presence. (His sister used to joke that, if their power went out, they had their very own human generator)
The woman melts away until the man is there once again. "And you're a bloody human lightning rod. That was uncalled for, by the way." The man says, examining his slightly singed skin.
Arthur doesn't back down from the hint of temper he hears in the man's voice. "You started it." It's a bit childish, really, but it's the truth. Arthur usually doesn't have to resort to using his powers.
"I thought it was a bit strange that you weren't freaking out when you saw me changing." The man covers a yawn, stretching a little as he does.
"I don't freak out." He responds automatically.
An eyebrow arch that can give his sister a run for her money. "Oh really? So you zap everyone you sleep with? That's comforting."
Arthur rolls his eyes and starts looking for his clothes. He finds his pants half under the bed and his shirt near the door. "Your sarcasm is well-appreciated."
"Seriously speaking though, I didn't know any others existed."
"Neither did I." (It was a partial lie, but it's the truth as far as the world is concerned) Arthur discovers a sock and his underwear near the dresser. He pulls the underwear and his pants on, ready to get out of Madrid. He's happy to find his wallet still in his back pocket.
"Don't you realize that that means there are more of us out there?"
Arthur's mind flashes to his sister, grinning at him as a candle-flame hovers in her palms when he was seven and she was five. (She's gone now, long gone and wishing for her back wouldn't do him any good)
"You want to go start your own X-Men, that's fine by me. Just leave me out of it."
"Not a team player, are you?"
"I could say the same about you."
"And what makes you think that?" The man's leaning against the wall, arms crossed and eyes following Arthur around the room. He's more intelligent than he looks, Arthur can tell.
"You seem like the type." Arthur shrugs his shirt on, buttoning it with quick, familiar movements.
"So, what, your plan is to go back to pretending that other people like us don't exist? Pretending to be normal? Pretending that this," the man gestures between them. "Never happened?"
"What happens in Madrid stays in Madrid."
"You've got the wrong city."
Arthur glances back at him. "What, have you got delusions of becoming a superhero? Is that what this is?"
"I'm not the hero type." The man answers honestly. "I'm more of the 'do illegal things and don't get caught' type."
Arthur pauses. He's been robbing banks for years now. Security systems always get mysteriously 'shorted out' and security guards are always found Tased at the scenes of the crimes. There's never any fingerprints to lead back to him because electricity works through gloves, so long as they're not rubber. "…You're a thief?"
"Something like that." The man's mouth quirks up in a smirk. "What, have I caught your interest?"
Arthur knows better than to pass up an opportunity when he sees one and this—meeting someone with these powers, never mind how unorthodox the meeting had been—is an opportunity to make enough money to retire.
"Actually, you have." Arthur turns back to the shapeshifter. "How do you feel about bank robbing?"
The smirk turns a little predatory. "That depends. How do you feel about con artists?"
"That depends on how good they are."
"Believe me, darling, I am very good at my job."
Arthur doesn't doubt it, with an ability like that. He holds out a hand. "I think this is going to be a rewarding partnership…" He doesn't know the man's name. He knew the woman's name-Linda-but the man is a very different person.
"Eames." The man replies, shaking his hand. "And you're Arthur, if I remember correctly."
"You do. And don't call me 'darling'."
"What, so distant after all we've shared?"
"It was one night and that one night's all you're getting. I don't mix business and pleasure." Arthur says.
"I think I can get you to change your mind."
"You can try." Arthur agrees. "But I doubt you'll succeed."
Eames grins. He's always loved a challenge.