That's How These Things Start

It started, as many of their fights did, with a comment from Eames.

Arthur couldn't even remember what it had been, or for that matter wanting to hit Eames. All of the sudden he was watching his fist streak towards Eames' face and then Eames was laughing and grinning at him through the blood pouring from his nose.

"Gosh darling, you'd think you were trying to break it!" He took a step toward Arthur who raised his in defense, expecting some sort of payback.

Eames' mouth was suddenly pressing incessantly against his, filling his mouth with the coppery taste of his blood. He pushed Arthur backwards towards the wall, pinning him against it with his body. Arthur struggled futilely against the man above him, who had both leverage and sheer size on his side.

"I love when you're rough," Eames growled against his neck.

"You're crazy Mr. Eames. Let me go now!" Arthur gasped quietly as Eames softly ground his arousal into Arthur's lap.

"Why, Darling? You want it as much as I do. Don't pretend you haven't been watching me Arthur, dreaming about this. I know you have."

Arthur made a lowing keening noise in his throat as Eames' leg made its way between his thighs. He felt himself tremble against the older man and knew he was lost.

The night ended with Arthur pressed against the wall, rough concrete rubbing his back, his legs around Eames' waist, his pants around one ankle and Eames pressing into him, his blood staining Arthur's collar.

At first Arthur tried to pretend that it was just a mutual release. For the first little while they would steal away after work, into seedy motel rooms, abandoned flats and back alleys, or else they would stay behind in the ware house that had been rented for their job and explore each other in closets, on desks and in the work room.

The first few times seemed to solidify Arthur's desperate label of their relationship. They would meet in a clashing of teeth and tongues and rip off each other's clothes and it would be rough and desperate and hot. Eames often times would hold Arthur down and have at him mercilessly and Arthur would have a hard time walking afterwards, which always made Eames smirk. They both walked away from it sated and utterly satisfied.

But Arthur noticed, over the weeks, how the small changes all started to add up into something he felt he should worry about. It started out innocuous enough, Eames cupping the back of Arthur's head to keep it from hitting the wall, or kissing him when he came. Then the hotel rooms got nicer, with bedspreads and sheets that got changed, and food if they wanted it. Then there were murmurs and caresses and Arthur was having a harder and harder time convincing himself that Eames was just a fuck. And that he was just a fuck to Eames. They started to cuddle afterward, hold each other, and go to sleep next to each other. And finally, much to Arthur's dismay, Eames said those three little words that Arthur was so dreading.

Eames was over Arthur, panting and heaving. He cupped Arthur's face as he came and then kissed him deeply. Arthur felt Eames' thrusts speed up and knew he was coming. As he finished Arthur felt him groan into his neck.

"I love you Darling."

Arthur waited until he had rolled off, then stood and dressed quickly. He fled the hotel room, ignoring the calls behind him and knowing that it would take Eames a few minutes to find his clothes. He would be gone before he could follow him.

For the next few days Arthur avoided Eames and his own feelings. He refused to take Eames' phone calls and ignored his increasingly agitated voicemails. At work he wouldn't be alone with Eames, though he kept trying to drag Arthur off to talk. He wouldn't talk to him unless it involved work and he avoided going out for drinks with everyone afterward. He was aided by the fact that the job loomed closer and closer and Eames had less time to worry about him avoiding him.

Arthur realized though that the feelings he had for Eames could not just be ignored. Over the passing weeks he had felt something in himself that no one had managed to make him feel in a very, very long time. Eames made him feel special and wanted, but he also made him feel out of control which was what scared Arthur. Eames had the power to make him come undone without even trying.

He realized that he had to tell Eames that he felt the same way. He knew that he did, or else he would lose Eames forever and he just wasn't sure he could handle that. Every time he went to say it though, he just couldn't. He was scared of loving again after being hurt so many times before.

The job went fantastic, they got the information in record time and there were no hitches. It also meant no faceless corporations chasing them around in revenge (for now at any rate). They went back to the ware house to pack up and split their pay check. Cobb, Ariadny and Yusef all went to meet with Saito, who was in town, at the bar for a celebratory drink, leaving behind Arthur who promised that he and Eames would catch up after.

He cornered Eames in the work room, where he was finishing packing. He looked at Arthur with hurt and suspicion in his eyes and Arthur felt as though his heart might break.

"What do you want Arthur?" No Darling. Arthur swallowed thickly. Once again he tried to force the words out, to voice what he felt—no, knew—in the very depths of his soul and he just couldn't. Eames sighed deeply and turned back to the suitcase he was packing.

Arthur was suddenly kissing him, gently but firmly. Eames could feel his heart beating through his suit and felt his heart thrumming to match. Something cool and hard slipped in Eames hand and he was suddenly cold, Arthur's body gone from his. Eames opened his eyes to see Arthur striding away from him and into the main room of the ware house.

Eames looked down into his hand and very nearly teared up. Arthur's die, his totem, was sitting in the palm of his hand. He rolled it across the table and picked it back up again, resting the closed fist and the treasure enclosed in it over his heart.

He smiled and, grabbing the suitcase, ran after Arthur.

He loved him too.