Thank you to everyone for hanging through all the twists & turns, and being patient while this story took hold of my brain. I'm glad so many of you liked and continually came back for more. So just in time for the holidays, here's the last chapter!

Please enjoy! (and Merry Christmas & Happy New Year!)

xxx

Chapter 17: Reindeer

-10 years later-

Bahamas, Maui, Florida, Morocco—the list was endless in Eames' mind. The world was full of hospitable locations in which to winter. So what the hell was Arthur doing in Maine? The snow had been falling since Eames landed in Boston and hadn't let up as he continued northward. Even London wasn't this bloody cold.

The houses—correction, mansions—he passed were tastefully decked in colored and white Christmas lights, doors adorned with welcoming wreaths. He just couldn't see Arthur in this kind of environment—on a ladder, hanging Christmas lights, mowing the lawn, part of neighborhood watch. Eames allowed himself a chuckle at the thought—hell, Arthur would probably give these suburbanites a heart attack if they ever witnessed him take on a criminal.

Eames eased the rent car up the circular driveway, not disappointed by the sight before him. The house was easily three stories tall, trimmed in white lights, the wide wood front door trimmed in red with a holly wreath. Warm, soft light emanated from the white shutter framed windows and as Eames killed the engine, sitting in the quietly falling snow, he couldn't help but already feel out of place. He wasn't even sure why he had listened to them and agreed to visit or what he hoped to accomplish. Arthur and Ariadne had their own lives, their own family—last time he had visited, their daughter Eva was three and Eames had never felt more like he was intruding. He debated just leaving—they would never know he had made it to the driveway before changing his plans. Though he knew he would never be able to live it down.

Soft light lit up the dark snow and the porch, catching Eames' attention. He bit his lip with a laugh, shaking his head, for in the light of the door stood the trim figure of his dear friend. He slid out of the car, knowing there was no way he could leave now. He fetched his suitcase from the backseat, shoes crunching in the freshly fallen snow on the shoveled driveway as he moved for the front porch. He finally let his eyes settle to Arthur. The years had left the man unchanged—still slender, hair slicked back, eyes sharp as always—dressed now in khaki slacks, red button down shirt, charcoal sweater and slim black tie. Eames couldn't help but smile—Arthur was a sight for sore eyes. A knowing smirk curved about Arthur's face.

"You weren't just going to leave without coming inside, now were you?" Eames wasn't surprised Arthur knew he considered it. "It's taken you long enough to get here as it is."

"Yes, well somebody didn't bother to mention if there was an international airport closer than Boston. It was a bloody five hour drive."

"Well someone didn't give much advance notice of their arrival time." Arthur's small smile grew as Eames passed him into the house.

"Together not even five minutes and already arguing," Eames said, setting his suitcase down on the wood floor, shedding his coat, "glad some things never change." He glanced around taking in the Christmas tree in the living room, warmth of the décor colors and dark wood trim, the faint aroma of cinnamon and hazelnut, currently overpowered by roasting poultry, smooth sax Christmas tunes soft in the air.

"Well you're looking well," Eames said, turning to Arthur, "the move, fatherhood, the years have been kind to you."

"Eames," Arthur said in disbelieving tone, eyes flashing a hint of annoyance, "you make me sound old. I'm not even forty yet."

"Next year, yeah?"

"Yes." He gave his head a quick nod.

"I found forty to be rather liberating personally."

"Of course you would." The years of suburban routine had dulled Arthur's usually sharp memory of the forger, his eyes unable to turn away. "The years have been good to you too, despite the life you lead." Arthur's smile returned at Eames' light laugh.

"Well there is something to be said for having fun and not living with a stick constantly up my ass."

"Thanks Eames."

"Only for you darling." Eames' gray eyes shone with the same mirth and mischief Arthur had always remembered, even if most of it was at his expense. Eames too had kept his body in check, looking damn near the same as he had on his visit three years ago, save for the slight graying at his temples. Arthur suddenly wanted nothing more than to pull Eames in close, feel him solid in his arms. It had simply been too long. He started to take a step forward, stopping uncertainly, unsure how the other man would take it. Of course Eames saw the reluctance and uncertainty in Arthur's eyes, making the point man near sigh in frustration as Eames' eyes lit playfully.

"Still uptight after these years," Eames moved forward, enveloping the younger man in a solid hug, the years apart melting away as Arthur's arms encircled him in return. "God Arthur, work, traveling—Caracas, Berlin, Kiev—remember New Years in Kiev?—just hasn't been the same."

But of course, Arthur remembered Kiev. He always would. After escaping prison badly scathed, he collapsed in the snow on the street corner of the team's warehouse, bleeding profusely, dehydrated and exhausted. Eames, who had stepped out for a smoke break, found him by complete chance, carried him to safety and cared for him through the holidays. Arthur, begrudgingly, couldn't deny how close they grew in those weeks, despite the man's ability to annoy him endlessly.

Arthur pulled back from Eames' embrace to meet the other man's eyes reflecting the soft light.

"Did I ever thank you…for Kiev?" Eames' smile instantly fell as he drew a sharp breath, plunged back in memory to that drunk, memorable night in Paris fourteen years ago that continually haunted him.

"God, I haven't been this drunk since sometime in college." Arthur's words weren't quite slurring together, but close.

"Ah, it's good for you," Eames called over his shoulder as he fell back on the couch, enjoying his alcoholic buzz, "you need to loosen up from time to time."

"No, no, this is not good for me," Arthur fished a bottle of water of the fridge, taking a big gulp, followed by a deep breath, raising a hand to his head, "god, I think I'm gonna be sick."

"Well I'd be happy to take care of you." Eames looked over his shoulder back to the younger man in the kitchen. His tie hung loose about neck, top shirt button undone. Eames couldn't keep his eyes off the small patch of exposed skin.

"Not again." Arthur shook his head slowly, remembering the days under Eames' care in Kiev, breathing deep and moving for the couch, deciding he was alright after all.

"But you're cute when you're helpless." An undignified snort of a laugh left Arthur as he moved for the couch. Eames couldn't help the smile on his face.

"I'm sorry…," Arthur said at length as he rounded the couch, trying to compose his face, and failing, not noticing Eames' intent gaze, "did I ever thank you…for Kiev—" His words instantly stopped as his foot connected with something he didn't expect and his balance, aided by the alcohol, was completely lost. He fell sideways, crash landing against a warm body on the couch, his face pressed against the forger's chest. He remained still, adjusting to his new found location against the other man's solid, warm body, eyes slowly rising to meet Eames'.

Eames' body was fast betraying him, his heart instantly racing at the close contact of someone he'd so desperately been wanting, uncomfortable hardness starting to grow between his legs. And when those sharp brown eyes met his, he lost all self control as his hand rose to brush back the point man's hair that had fallen free. He leaned his face forward, lightly brushing his lips to the other man's skin, finding it as smooth as he'd always guessed. He brushed his nose to Arthur's skin, sharing a breath and finally kissing the lips that had tempted him for years with their sarcastic smirks and genuine half-smiles. His heart soared when the other man returned the kiss, parting his lips to let tongues meet.

"Daddy! Unkie Eames!" Both men shook from their thoughts, dropping their hold on each other, stepping apart. Arthur fought to keep his cheeks from reddening as his six-year old daughter rounded the entryway corner, making a beeline for Eames.

"Eva, my little sweetheart!" Eames stooped to gather the squirming girl in his arms for a hug. "My how you've grown…let me guess, you're twenty now? Twenty five?"

"No silly! I'm six." She said proudly as Eames scoffed at his wrong guesses. He set her back down and she bolted for Arthur's leg, wrapping her arms around his knee, his hand falling to rest on her head.

"Yes, she's growing up fast. Started kindergarten this past fall." Eames looked down at her with an impressed smile.

"Kindergarten was always my favorite." Eames said with a wink, making Eva giggle as Arthur shot him a sideways roll of his eyes. A boy of thirteen with sandy blonde hair and piercing sea green eyes rounded the entryway corner, making Eames freeze and near do a double-take.

"Oh my god," Eames said softly as the boy neared, now followed by a fifteen year old girl, holding hands with a toddler, "that's not…."

"Mmmhmm." Arthur said softly.

"James Cobb." Eames said with a smile as the boy came to a stop, nodding his head.

"Yes sir, Mr. Eames," James said with a smile, "nice to meet you."

"Oh no no," Eames scoffed in disgust, "its Eames, or Uncle Eames," he deferred to Arthur's glare, "but if that 'Mr. Eames' is your Uncle Arthur here talking, then don't listen to him. He's a right stick in the mud." James and the girl, who could only be Phillipa given Mal's warm eyes shining out from under sandy blonde hair to match her brother, laughed softly.

"Well Aunt Ari warned us against you, and we're not supposed to listen to your either." Phillipa added, a touch of teenage snark to her lightheartedness.

"Warned against?" Eames turned from the kids, catching Ariadne make her way over to them. She was simply resplendent in a red sweater set, her hair flowing in free curls, eyes warm and loving. "Well thank you Aunt Ari." Eames said with a smile, meeting Ariadne's eyes.

"Good to see you too Eames." Her smile widened as she moved forward to pull Eames in for a tight hug, leaning back to meet his lips in a soft kiss.

"And who's the little guy?" Eames asked as he released Ariadne.

"This here is Jonathon," Ariadne dropped to a knee beside the toddler who couldn't be more than three years old, still clinging to Phillipa's hand as Ariadne placed a hand on his shoulder, "Jonathon, can you say hi to Unkie Eames?" The little boy shook his head with a small smile, moving to hide behind Phillipa's leg as they all lightly laughed. "He's a little shy around new people." Arthur turned his eyes to Eames' face, taken aback at the surprised, even reverent look on the forger's face. Arthur wouldn't have missed Eames' reaction for the world.

"Well it is very nice to meet you Jonathon," Eames said, his voice a little more serious, "that's a right, smart name you've got there." Ariadne rose, taking Jonathon's hand in hers, looking amongst her four kids with a big smile.

"Alright, let's finish setting the table and getting dinner ready. If you'll show Eames to his room so he can drop his stuff, Arthur, then we'll eat?"

"But of course." He flashed a small smile to his wife.

"Mommy, can I go with Daddy and Unkie Eames?" Eva asked as she clung to Arthur's leg.

"Eva, you know better." Arthur lightly scolded, as the little girl looked up to him.

"Come on sweetie," Ariadne said, reaching for the little girl's hand as they turned to head back to the kitchen, "Daddy and Eames will join us soon." Eva let go Arthur's leg, taking her mother's hand and moving for the kitchen. Eames couldn't quite bring himself to look at Arthur yet.

"Ariadne looks positively radiant," Eames said softly, amazed at how good she looked, her glowing smile, "she's not expecting again is she?"

"No," Arthur said with a smile, looking after his wife and kids, "we're done." Eames nodded, turning to retrieve his suitcase and coat.

"Lead on, oh fearless one." Whatever spell existed was broken as Arthur turned to cast Eames a confused, near disgusted glare before moving for the stairs. "I can't believe how much James looks like Dom," Eames started softly as he followed Arthur up, "how long have they been with you?"

"Miles took ill and passed away about two years ago. We took custody around then. They've adjusted really well."

"Glad to hear. And now most importantly," Eames continued, "why are you in Maine of all places?"

"I grew up here. My parents lived in this house up till seven years ago."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear," Eames started hesitantly, not sure what to really say, "have they both passed?"

"My father has, but not before losing his mind to insanity—night terrors can do that you know," Arthur's voice had dropped to a dangerous octave that Eames had seldom heard over the years and it never failed to send a shiver down his spine, reminding him just how lethal Arthur could be when he set his mind to it. "And my mother's severe dementia has her resting comfortably in upstate New York at the Mount Mercy Hospital for the Criminally Insane." Eames' eyes widened, not able to believe he had heard the man right.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Eames said again, "sounds like that is quite a story."

"It is," Arthur threw over his shoulder as he reached the guest bedroom door, turning with a small smile, "but enough of unpleasant things." He let Eames through, watching Eames quickly scan the room, more out of habit than actually sizing up his surroundings.

"Well I'm still somewhat shocked to see you all settled into the suburbs," Eames loved Arthur's near annoyed smirk, "never thought I would see the day our illustrious point man settled for such a life."

"It's been an adjustment," Arthur admitted, leaning against the door frame, watching the forger set his suitcase down, "one I don't regret. And Ariadne's determined to get you to join us."

"She what?" Eames turned with a curious look.

"She wants you to move in—permanently—with us." Eames quirked an eyebrow.

"Is this her motherly instinct talking? Surely, she knows I'm old enough to look out for myself."

"She just thinks the three of us will fit well together." Eames' look morphed to a sexy devilish smirk.

"And in a house full of children too, tsk-tsk," his smile fell away to something more serious, "and what about you?" He watched something of a reluctant smile curve about the younger man's face.

"I, too, hope you will stay, despite my reservations about you becoming a regular influence on my children."

"Well darling, you did name one after me, so he can't grow up to be completely like you," he walked closer to where Arthur was still leaning against the door frame, "how is his name spelled?"

"Jonathon with an 'O'."

"That's the only way to spell it." Eames sighed softly with a smile. "Does she know?"

"No, I know you keep your first name a tightly guarded secret."

"How'd you convince her to pick it?"

"Honestly, she liked it best of all the names we considered." Eames' eyes fell to Arthur's, unable to look away. He couldn't even find words, loving the man and the slightly uncomfortable, near happy lift to the corners of Arthur's lips. "Don't look at me like that."

"And why not Arthur?" His voice dropped to a low buttery tone, Arthur's name on his tongue meant only for his point man. Arthur stepped forward from the door frame, closing the distance between them until his lips effortlessly found Eames'. Eames drank in the soft kiss, begging for a second and third, lost to the taste of bourbon on the younger man's lips, the faint wafts of cologne invading his senses. Arthur stepped back, unable to hide a smile that unwittingly filled his face, showing off his dimples that aged him twenty years younger. Even Eames couldn't help his smile when those sharp brown eyes found his before the younger man turned and started down the hallway.

"I always knew you missed me." Eames called out as he followed, catching Arthur turn back with a slight smile, shaking his head, Eames moving to catch him and follow him back downstairs.

Maybe, just maybe, Eames knew why he had come. And more importantly, why it felt like home.

- the end (officially) –

xxx

If you prefer to make up your own mind about Eames' decision to move in with Darrens, then this, my dear friend, is the end. And please, if you feel like sharing, I would love to hear your ideas!

However, I just couldn't stop myself and if you can't get enough and want to know how me & my husband saw events playing out, then please find my gift below.

Thanks to everyone for reading & I genuinely hope you enjoyed the ride! I'm toying with the idea of an Arthur & Eames in Kiev prequel. Would that interest anyone? No set timeline, but if there's enough interest, keep a weather eye out!

Thanks again & please enjoy!

-MidnightBlast

xxx

Eva had called Eames' red, fuzzy earmuffs cute, immediately telling her mother she wanted a pair. Ariadne had laughed and agreed that Eames did indeed look cute.

"Eames, how did you come by those earmuffs? They look like something for a teenage girl."

"Job in Reykjavik—so cold, my nose had icicles hanging from it—I was willing to wear anything to stay warm. And now they just lend themselves to familiarity." She laughed again as they packed more snow together for the snowman base.

"Well you pull them off nicely."

"I should get Arthur a pair."

"Oh I'm sure that will win you the way to his heart."

"Well what am I waiting for?"

"Most likely, it would just earn you a right hook."

"You know you're husband too well." Their eyes met for a brief second, turning away the giggles in the background. The four kids had scampered off towards the oceanfront to throw snowballs into the water, but it sounded like they were returning.

"Move in with us Eames. Arthur and I both want you to." Ariadne said softly with a smile.

"He told me you were going to ask."

"Hm, he needs to stop ruing my surprises."

"Is there a story on that?" He shot her an amused, curious look.

"Not really. So will you consider it?" A light sigh left him as he shook his head lightly.

"I don't honestly know what to think about it Ariadne. My first thought is to ask why you would want that. You have a lovely family…the only family I've ever been a part of didn't turn out so well. You can't really want me a part of your family."

"You've always been a part of this family whether you know it or not, Eames," she met his eyes over the growing snowman between them, "we're not just going to sit around and wait for the day you never return a message or call. We thought we'd reached that day two years ago and it really upset us both."

"I remember."

"Fourteen months without a word. We were days from sending Arthur after you." Eames all too vividly remembered the choking relief on the ex-point man's voice the first time they had spoken after that ordeal. Even Eames never hoped to repeat such an experience.

"You know firsthand, worse of all, the repercussions of our jobs."

"Your job, Eames. Arthur's been out, done, for the last ten years. If you're between jobs with no one after you, then why not take the chance to leave it behind? Escape while you have a chance. If you hadn't been so lucky two years ago, we wouldn't be here now." She watched his face fall, eyes to the ground as if seemingly considering her words. "You're both only getting older, eventually you'll both start slowing down. And if you break his heart by getting into trouble again that he feels compelled to rescue you from, and he gets hurt—I will fucking kill you myself." She grit out her last words, taking a deep breath to calm down, casting a glance towards the ocean, grateful the kids were still away. "Then at least you couldn't hurt either of us again." Her words finished on a thin, sad note, compelling him to reach out to her. She turned at the tug on her arm, falling against his broad, coat-clad chest as his arms encircled her in a close hold.

"It has never been my intention to hurt either one of you. I would never let anything happen to Arthur on my account—not when he has so much to lose, and means so much to me.

"Then get out, stop, retire." She tightened her hold. "Surely you've earned it. And if you love us as much as you claim, how could you walk away?" A silent, acknowledging laugh left him as his chin rested atop her knit hat.

"I don't deserve you—either of you—but if you're both inviting me in, I don't think I can walk away." She smiled against him, raising her head to meet his ever soft, mischievous eyes.

"You'll bring a nice dose of fun trouble-making to this house."

"I look forward to it." Eva's approaching giggle broke their shared gaze, parting their hold with a quick kiss. They returned their focus on the snowman before them, watching the children return—each of Phillipa's hands occupied by either Eva or Jonathon's hand as she helped them traverse the tricky snow, James lingering behind.

"James! Knock it off." Phillipa warned threateningly, brushing snow from her coat sleeve when they reached Ariadne and Eames.

"But it's too much fun." James stooped to gather a handful of snow for another snowball.

"No its not," Phillipa protested, "Uncle A hates snowballs, as do I, and you leave him alone."

"He's not my sister." James let another snowball fly at his sister, an exasperated gasp issuing from Phillipa.

"Hey guys, just chill," Ariadne said calmly, "James, lay off Phillipa a while."

"Besides, you don't know how to make a proper snowball." Eames added from the other side of the snowman. Jonathon looked like a big blue marshmallow as he padded about at their feet, now doing his best to help his mother build the snowman.

"And how's that Uncle E?" James called out near sarcastically, only to met by an exploding ball of snow on the front of his jacket. Phillipa and Eva, who stood at Eames' side, laughed at the near girly shriek from their brother. "Not fair!" He called back to Eames who smiled innocently. "I wasn't looking."

"That's the best time to strike." He let loose another ball of snow that perfectly dissolved in a cloud of powder on James' coat, flakes landing on his cheek and nose. James instantly stooped to construct a snowball, preparing to return fire.

"No, no," Ariadne quickly said, watching Eames gather more snow, "if you two are going to do that, get away from the snowman."

"I wanna play! I wanna play!" Eva whined, tugging on Eames' pant leg. Eames dropped to crouch down, handing her the snowball in his hand, instantly scooping another handful into his fleece gloves, whispering quiet instructions.

Arthur watched the snowball fight unfold with an amused smile. True to Phillipa's words, he hated playing the snow. Too wet and messy for his tastes. Normally, he contented himself to watch from inside the house, but watching Ariadne with Eames and the children, he felt compelled to at least put on a coat and watch the proceedings firsthand.

"Look at me Daddy!" Eva called out before lobbing a snowball that barely managed to hit James' leg before she ran away giggling. A small laugh left Arthur as he watched her retreat to the safety of Eames' legs when James chased slowly after her, a small snowball lightly hitting her back.

Cold wet snow suddenly exploded against Arthur's right shoulder, sending snow flying into his face and hair. He stiffened, eyes instantly narrowing to glare daggers at the proud culprit. Eva froze in place, eyes wide, her mouth a perfect 'o'.

"Ohhhhhh Unkie Eammmmmes," she scolded, glancing between her dad and uncle, "Daddy hates the snow. No one throws snowballs at him." Ariadne rolled her eyes, shaking her head, watching as Arthur crossed the steps down the porch, crunching through the ankle high snow towards them. Phillipa drew a deep amused laugh of a breath, hopping she'd be lucky enough to see an awesome smack down between her uncles. Eames was just smirking back at Arthur, silently daring the point man to retaliate. Arthur's sharp eyes darted from Eames to Eva, crouching down to whisper in her ear, hearing her little giggle as she nodded her assent to his words. Brushing a quick pat to her shoulder, he rose and crossed the few feet to stand in front of Eames, whose face still held the same shit-eating grin.

"Don't you think you're funny."

"Only when it's you love," Eames' voice was soft before speaking louder, "it should be a crime to hate playing in the snow—especially considering where you live. Eva has already scolded me."

"Not good enough." In the blink of an eye, Eames found himself on the ground, flat on his back, breath whooshing out of his chest, Arthur standing over and holding him down to the ground. Both James and Phillipa stood silently stunned, amazed at Arthur's skill and economy of motion to quickly and near effortlessly take down the larger, older man. A giggle sounded to Eames' right, scampering footsteps approaching in the snow, before a cold, wet ball smacked against his face. He let his head fall dramatically back, eyes falling closed.

"My sweet Eva turned against me." He bemoaned melodramatically. She giggled.

"Daddy told me to."

"But now you have to protect me." Eames opened his eyes, sending her a wink. Eames raised a foot, wrapping it to the back of Arthur's knee, making it buckle and drag the point man down into the snow. Some tousling later, Arthur found himself under loosely Eames' hold—knowing he could take him down even still—but stilling as Eva steadily approached with another snowball. Ariadne loved the smile on her daughter's face when she threw the snowball down at Arthur. It really was a shame he wasn't more playful. Hopefully if Eames stayed, he could draw it out of him.

"A direct hit, good shot Eva," Eames praised as she giggled and blushed, "and look, he hasn't melted and the world hasn't ended."

"Very funny." Arthur conceded, cracking an eye open, an embarrassed smile on his face. God, Eames loved the rosy blush on Arthur's cheek and nose from the cold, snow melting into his dark hair. If children weren't present, he would not hesitate to lean down to Arthur with a crushing kiss.

"So Uncle A, does this reverse the current 'No snowballs at Uncle A' rule?" James asked, a hopeful note on his voice.

"Of course it does," Ariadne answered, smiling down at Arthur as he glared up at her before sitting up, "it's good for you, dear. Being playful will keep you young."

"And Eames will simultaneously age me," Arthur reached for the aforementioned man's hand, pulling him to his feet, "perfect."

"You'll never get old that way darling." Eames said with a flirty smile as Arthur released an annoyed sigh, turning to brush the snow from his coat.

"Oh don't look so put out Arthur," Ariadne's arm slipped around his waist, "it's Christmas Eve after all."

"Santa comes tonight!" Eva suddenly yelled, jumping up and down at Phillipa's side. "Phil'pa, we have to leave cookies out for him!"

"And milk, don't forget." Phillipa added, matching the young girl's smile.

"So stupid, doesn't she know—."

"James, don't." Arthur interrupted with a head shake, his voice stern. "Give it a few more years."

"Alright, well I've had enough of the snow for now," Ariadne said, rubbing her gloved hands together, nose and cheeks red, "anyone who wants hot chocolate be inside in ten minutes." All four children's eyes lit up, heads turning to Ariadne as she headed off for the house. It seemed a near race, Jonathon falling behind as everyone moved for the house. Arthur and Eames shared an amused smile with a shake of their heads as they flanked the young boy in his poufy blue coat.

"Gotcha, kiddo." Arthur suddenly grabbed Jon from behind, sweeping him off his feet, giggle sounding in the winter air. "You want to be faster than everyone else?" Jon's eyes flitted to Eames, still a little unsure, nodding in response. "Well I happen to know Jonathon Eames here is very fast." Eames glared at Arthur for using his whole name, quickly morphing to a smile when Jon's eyes settled back to his.

"Your dad's right, Jon. Us Jon's are fast by nature, we'll be the first ones to the kitchen." The smile on Jon's face grew as Eames talked, seemingly more comfortable with the idea, nodding slowly.

"Alright, hold still Eames," Arthur let go as Jon wrapped his arms around Eames' neck, Eames tucking his short legs around his arms, "hold on tight, Jon." Again he laughed as Eames took off through the snow, the other children playing along, to let Eames and Jon "win" to the back door. Arthur followed last, surprised at Eames' comfort around the kids. He knew about Eames' sister with the two children, but had never been sure before how much time Eames had spent around them.

As he neared the house, crunching up the porch steps, he could only hope Eames had indeed come to stay.

xxx

The Christmas Eve service had been lovely, but nowhere near what he remembered from his last Christmas Eve service at Notre Dame in Paris. Everyone but him, Arthur and Jon participated in communion, sharing a quick look as the pew emptied. Eames wondered why the point man sat out, since Eames knew the man was living in his childhood home which made this the church he grew up in. Somehow Eames was sure if he ever were to ask, Arthur would never tell him.

And Eva, sweet Eva, had clung to Eames' side the entire evening. If anything, Ariadne seemed slightly relieved that she could focus on Jon, and Arthur slightly jealous that his little girl was clinging to another man. Eames found he didn't mind it so much. Eva was cute and not too bothersome for a little kid. His niece had been a complete pain at six years.

The little Darren girl had long dozed off in Eames' arms during Arthur's supposed annual reading of 'Twas the Night Before Christmas. The Cobb kids had settled on either side of Ariadne—all comfy in their pajamas—on the sofa, and Arthur—dressed as Eames had never seen him in black pajama pants with a forest green zippered fleece, white undershirt peeking out underneath—had Jon squarely on his lap as his calm, precise, melodic voice filled the living room, accented by the crackling fire. And Eva had made herself right at home in Eames' embrace as he sat in the armchair opposite Arthur. It made the perfect family setting, and Eames was almost overwhelmed and beyond privileged that they wanted him to permanently share in this family. Eva's breathing had evened out as she snuggled against him, and he didn't see the warm, loving smile on Ariadne's face when she noticed her daughter curled in Eames' arms and the protective, caring gazes Eames sent her way.

"Happy Christmas to all, and to all, a good night."

Despite Ariadne's insistence that he didn't have to, Eames gathered the sleeping girl in his arms, ascending the flights of stairs to her bedroom. Eva snuggled tighter in Eames' arms as he climbed the stairs, edging her bedroom door open, greeted by soft light from her nightlight. Freeing an arm, he pulled back her mint and lavender bedspread, laying her gently against the soft mattress.

"Unkie Eames?" Her voice was soft and sleepy as he met her eyes with a small smile.

"What sweetheart?"

"Are you really going to stay?" A small yawn finished her words.

"Do you want me to stay?" He drew up the bedspread around her small frame, tucking her in.

"Uh-hunh, you make daddy funny." A soft laugh left Eames as he smiled.

"Well I'm not planning to leave any time soon sweetheart. Go back to sleep, and no peeking tomorrow morning." Eva giggled sleepily, settling deeper against her pillow, falling silent. He lowered his hand to her head, brushing her hair back before slipping silently from her room.

As much as he had felt out of place on his arrival, was equally how much he felt at home now. He couldn't believe Ariadne and Arthur were willingly opening up their home to someone like him. Hell, Eva had practically clung to his side since his arrival. He was already starting to consider her his favorite of the Darren and Cobb children after just three days.

A disbelieving sigh left him as he descended the steps to the second level with his guest room and the master suite. His eyes landed on Ariadne, standing in the hallway outside the master suite as if waiting for someone. Eames' eyes instantly fell to the lines of her small body—her earlier lounge pants and sweater traded now for a black, silk robe that shimmered with moonlight from the nearby window, curls loosely pulled up with a clip, a tendril or two framing her face. Only in the weeks following Arthur's "death" could he remember ever seeing her so purposefully sexy in front of him.

"Ariadne?" He almost couldn't believe it as he neared her.

"Thanks for taking Eva to bed," she said, tucking a stand of hair behind her ear, "she's really quite taken with you."

"She asked me if I was really going to stay."

"She did?"

"Mmhmm," he nodded, "she wants me to stay."

"She's not the only one you know." Her big brown eyes locked to his, a hint of longing in their depths.

"And why again is that exactly? Some sort of pity? Charity?"

"Come on Eames, you know why. I love you, Arthur loves you—he won't come right out and say it, but he doesn't have to—the distant look in his eyes gives him away whenever we talk about you. We want you to be a part of the family—be a part of us."

"Suddenly now? After all these years?" A little nervous laugh left her.

"Well we have been trying to get you to come for three years now, but you always kept blowing us off."

"Well couldn't make it too easy on you two." Again she laughed, the sound awakening everything he felt for her all those years ago.

"Predictable Eames," again she laughed, stepping to her bedroom door, opening it, "but reassuring." She crooked a finger, beckoning him to follower her. He crossed the remaining distance, stopping at the threshold of the master bedroom, something of a curiously playful, yet somehow serious look.

"Doesn't this cross a line you weren't willing to cross last time you were married?"

"If memory serves, that was before my husband decided to fake his own death," she shook her head with a knowing smile, "you said it best yourself Eames—being married to Arthur is a caveat in of itself to break all the rules." She turned with something of a wicked smile, again beckoning him forward.

"Close the bedroom door?" He asked after her, entering the spacious and elegantly cozy room.

"No, just pull it to" she moved for the bathroom in the dimly lit room, "we'll make sure to close and lock the bathroom door though. The children mostly always remember to knock, but sometimes they forget."

"Sounds like there's a story there." Eames followed her to the bathroom bathed in candlelight, pausing and drawing a deep breath to see Arthur, dressed in a black silk robe equal to Ariadne's, drawing a hot bath in a large, oversized tub, a sea of foamy bubbles floating atop the water. He fought back a wave of lust at the sight, eyes glued to the point man's slender form as he bent over. Ariadne had settled to lean against the counter, picking up one of three champagne flutes.

"Eva barged in on us one time we forgot to lock the door." She started.

"You, love." Arthur tossed idly over his shoulder.

"We never agreed who it was, dear, but she was most insistent to know why Daddy was on top of Mommy like that, and if he was trying to drown me because I was screaming in pain." Eames' yummy, amused laughter reverberated off the tile.

"Oh the joys of children." His laughter died on his words.

"Are truly many." Arthur finished quietly, reaching to turn the taps off. Ariadne neared the lavish tub, setting her flute on the tile deck surrounding it. Eames couldn't really be sure this was actually happening—he certainly hadn't expected to be invited into Arthur and Ariadne's bedroom for a Christmas Eve rendezvous. She slid the robe from her shoulders, letting it cascade down her body to pool on the floor, Arthur and Eames' eyes fixed on the creamy globes of her ass as she settled beneath the bubbly water. Her content sigh sounded in the space as both men found themselves unable to look away.

"Are you boys just going to stand there and watch? Or would you care to join?" She reached for her champagne, indulging in a sweet drink as the sounds of rustling and discarding clothes reached her ears. Eames toed the water first, hissing when his cold toes contacted with the warm water, followed by the clink of two glasses against the tile deck before Arthur slid in. Arthur and Eames settled against the same side, Ariadne facing them with a sensually content smile. Sighs left them both in the quiet, steamy air, Ariadne adjusting her legs so that her right foot rested on Arthur's leg, her left propped with her knee out of the water.

"Cheers to a very merry adult Christmas." Ariadne said, tipping her glass to the two men.

"Cheers." Arthur and Eames clinked glasses, each sipping.

"Mm, this is the warmest I've been since before you shoved me in the snow, Eames," Arthur started, his voice accusatory, "thank you, by the way, for opening that can of worms with my kids."

"Why you're entirely welcome love," Eames sent him a smug smirk, "I look forward to finding other silly rules that we can break together."

"Remind me why I want you to stay with us, again." His eyes narrowed in scrutiny, turning to Ariadne for confirmation.

"Come now Arthur," Ariadne near scolded, giving him a slight kick under the water, "don't let him fool you Eames—he was beginning to think you would never come."

"Now that is touching," Eames again let his eyes settle to Arthur's face, loving the reflections of candlelight on his pale skin, "well like I told Ariadne here, I couldn't make it easy for you two. Half the fun is the anticipation."

"Please," Ariadne scoffed, "you had no idea we would invite you in so intimately."

"But I had hoped—after being with you both separately, it was marvelous to imagine how all three of us would be together. But I am a bit surprised at the timing, with a house full of children and all."

"Well they may wonder as they get older, but they'll never know for sure." Ariadne sunk deeper into the water, again sighing as the warm water covered more of her skin.

"We'll just have to keep this one quiet here then." Eames turned to Arthur with a playful smirk.

"You're the noisy one," Arthur grumbled, lightly smacking Eames' arm, soap suds flying, "but I'm sure Ariadne would love to gag you for a change." Eames' eyes widened in surprise before glancing across the tub to Ariadne.

"You told him all the details?" Something of an embarrassed, playful smile came to her face.

"Told him he should take a cue from your book because it was fucking sexy when you tied and gagged me." Warm waves of desire had long been tingling up and down her spine at being naked in the tub these two men, but they were now starting to settle south on her body at the memory of being at Eames' mercy the only time they fucked.

"Did you get the same reaction?" Eames turned back to Arthur, watching the younger man's eyes settle to his wife with a predatory gaze.

"Never heard her beg for anything so hard before." The low, near feral tone on Arthur's voice rocketed waves of lust through both Ariadne and Eames, breaths catching slightly. Arthur's body had long been reacting to the close proximity of the other two, wondering if the situation could get any more sexily intimate. Suddenly Eames' left hand fell to Arthur's thigh under the water, tracing light patterns and derailing his coherent thought. Ariadne watched her husband's eyes drift momentarily closed, his face relaxed, with a private smile. Despite his reluctance to admit it, she was glad he accepted his attraction to Eames, and now, embraced it. She could only hope in a few years he wouldn't reverse his thinking. The glossy look in his eyes, however, told her she was probably safe.

"Don't have too much fun over there boys." She called out softly, reaching for her champagne.

"Teasing is always fun." She outright giggled at Eames' innocent smile, watching Arthur fight to not roll his eyes.

"Three can play that game." Arthur simply said, letting his own hand fall to Eames' thigh, drifting dangerously close to where Eames' hardened want before backing away. Eames' breath hitched, sighing in frustration when Arthur's hand moved away.

"Fucking tease." He ground out, loving the younger man's soft, throaty laugh. Warm, soft toes suddenly pressed to Eames' hard length, gently stroking him up and down, pulling a groan out of the forger. He opened his eyes to see Ariadne's left leg now extended underwater, a wicked smirk on her face as she continued to run her toes up and down him, Arthur's hand drifting lazily across his thigh. God, these two were going to be the death of him. The water moved and sloshed, soft lips falling to the skin below Eames' ear as Arthur shifted closer. Eames immediately turned his head, capturing Arthur's lips as his hand teased Eames' skin and the soft caress of Ariadne's toes fell away. More water sloshed in the large tub as Ariadne slid over, straddling one of Eames' and Arthur's legs, wrapping a hand around each of their aching erections. Moans escaped them both, hips instinctively jerking to match her movements.

"God Ariadne…" Arthur moaned, leaning his forehead against Eames' as the forger bit his lip in a groan. Her own body was growing hot and needy as she watched the two men before her start to come undone, loving the power she currently held over them. She sped up her hands, twisting and tightening, ragged breathing filling the room as the two men clung to each other.

"If you don't stop..," Arthur choked out, "this'll be a very short bath…"

"Fuck….," Eames agreed, lost in the sensation of her warm, deft fingers.

"I'm not too concerned," she leaned in, placing a kiss to each of their cheeks, "I'm sure you boys will be up for more later." Eames moaned in agreement as he suddenly brought a hand to hers, prying her hand off him, pushing his own need temporarily aside.

"Not yet, love." He growled, Arthur following suit to free himself from her hand, both men moving to push her back against the tub, twisting around on top of her. Lips and hands descended from all sides—Eames' lips hot against hers, Arthurs teasing the skin of her neck; Eames fingers skillfully tweaking a nipple, Arthur's fingers dipping between her legs. Incomprehensible sounds left her at the onslaught of sensation, clinging desperately to both men as they lavished such attention on her body. Her head rolled back as Arthur's fingers smoothly pushed inside, joined by Eames' fingers on the outside to tease in maddening circles. Occasionally their lips would fall from her skin to kiss the other partner as they worked her body higher, and she only hoped she could hold out for every inch both men had to offer.

xxx

She woke to a delicious soreness in her body as pale light filtered the curtains, finding herself in an equally delicious tangle with her two favorite men. Somehow she wound up in the middle, half underneath and on top of Eames, and spooned up tight against Arthur. She could stay in their warm embrace all day if today weren't Christmas. …Christmas! Her eyes flew open, leaning over Arthur's chest to glance at the bedside clock. 7:39 am. The kids were surely to be up and rummaging through stockings by now. She did her best to stretch in the close quarters, hearing Eames let out a small groan and Arthur draw a deep breath.

"Good morning boys, rise and shine." She cooed softly, sweetly, moving her hands to stroke both their sleep matted hair. Eames' lips nuzzled her neck as Arthur shifted to better hold her close. "No, no…Christmas morning, excited kids and stockings won't let us spend a leisurely morning in bed."

"Unfortunate." Arthur grumbled as she sat up, disentangling herself from the two men.

"Don't tell me I'm rubbing off on you already darling." Eames said softly, scooting over to occupy the space left behind by Ariadne as she rose from the bed with a stretch and a yawn. Arthur curled up against Eames, giving the older man a quick kiss.

"Ok you two, don't get too comfortable," she kneeled back on the bed, pulling a sweater on, "the kids won't wait forever," she stroked her husband's cheek, meeting him in a lingering kiss, "and Eames, you're on deck for French toast." She met the forger in a soft kiss as he mumbled his agreement. She moved off the bed unable to stop her smile as she glanced back at her two men in bed. She almost couldn't believe they really all had each other.

She drifted down the stairs, the sounds of excited little voices growing as she reached the living room, loving all the smiles.

"Good morning, Merry Christmas!" She called warmly with a smile, as four sets of bright eyes turned towards her, various choruses of "Good morning Mommy" and "Merry Christmas Aunt Ari" in the air.

"Mommy, mommy, look what Santa got me!" Eva jumped up and down, holding her new doll in a tight hug.

"I see your doll, how pretty!" Ariadne commented with a smile. "We'll go through the rest of stockings in a few minutes when Daddy and Unkie Eames come downstairs."

"Yeah, is Uncle A sick?" Phillipa asked lightly as she followed Ariadne into the kitchen.

"Of course not," Ariadne thought back to the two men upstairs, "why do you ask?"

"He's always the first one up to make coffee and tea."

"Well he's trying to drag your other uncle out of bed."

"Why should he care?"

"Well Christmas can't start until the whole family is together," Ariadne started the coffee, filling a mug with water for tea, "and Eames would sleep until noon if we let him." A distant smile drifted across her face as she thought back to the previous night. "And I have it on excellent authority that he makes amazing French toast." Phillipa turned with something of a knowing smile, mug in her hand for hot chocolate.

"The two of you do seem close."

"Your Uncle A was really sick for a month ten years ago," it was the easiest way to explain that whole ordeal, "and your Uncle Eames came and stayed with me during that hard time."

"Aw, that's sweet of him," Phillipa mused, a hesitant smile coming to her face, "and come to think of it, I haven't ever seen Uncle A so playful or smile so much…was there ever something between the two of them?" Ariadne fought back a look of shock at the teenager's perceptiveness. She shook her head with a smile.

"That's a question for one of them, I'm afraid."

"Oh my god Aunt Ari," Phillipa's face lit up with a knowing smile, "you totally know!"

"What I may or may not know doesn't concern you young lady," Ariadne lightly scolded, "just because my husband shares something with me, doesn't give you automatic right to know."

"Such a lame answer." The teenager shook her head with a disappointed smile. "I'm still curious though."

"Well ask either Arthur or Eames and see what they tell you." Ariadne turned to face the girl with a secretive smile as Phillipa moved over to use the microwave.

"Was my father ever involved?"

"Oh Phillipa!" Ariadne scoffed as the younger woman laughed.

"Involved in what?" Eames voice cut through the laughter as he breezed through the kitchen door in his pajama pants and sweater from the previous evening, hair smoothed into place though. It just wouldn't do if his hair stood out in every direction, looking obviously mussed by hands in the throes of passion. Ariadne couldn't help the instant smile on her face as she turned to see Arthur following.

"Oh Phillipa was just spouting some curious notions of hers."

"Aunt Ari!" Phillipa's face tinged in embarrassment as both men turned towards her with curious, amused smiles. "I was doing nothing of the sort." She fished her hot chocolate out of the microwave, turning from them.

"Well sounds like you two have been having fun then," Eames' hand fell to Ariadne's waist with a light touch, lips falling to her cheek, "Merry Christmas Ariadne."

"Merry Christmas Eames." He brushed on by, moving for the coffee pot.

"Morning love, Merry Christmas." Arthur's arms encircled her from behind in a tight hug that she melted into.

"Merry Christmas to you." He leaned his head forward to meet his wife's lips in a solid, quick kiss as the rest of the kids came barreling into the kitchen.

"What's for breakfast?" James asked impatiently, Eva echoing the sentiment.

"Your Aunt's insisted on an authentic Eames French Toast breakfast in exchange for a fabulous turkey dinner tonight." Eames fished in the cabinet for a big skillet, setting it to the stove top with a clang.

"Can I help, Unkie Eames?" Eva pulled on his pant leg, Eames turning to her with a smile.

"Of course you can sweetheart." His hand fell to the top of her head as they walked over to the fridge, him issuing quiet instructions to make the little girl laugh. James' attention was on Jonathon as he clutched his new stuffed dinosaur.

Arthur's arms were still tight around Ariadne as they watched their satellite family move about the kitchen with smiles and laughs, wondering if life could ever be more complete.

-the end-

xxx

If you've made it this far, I hope you enjoyed and again, have a Merry Christmas!