Hello again. No, I haven't died and gone to heaven or hell, or wherever it is all the interesting people go after death... ;) I realize I made you wait again, but I hope it was worth your while. One warning though: There's fluff up ahead. And a dash of sex. Nothing too explicit, though. Enjoy and review!

"What's so funny?" Arthur asked, emerging from the bathroom dressed only in his pants, towel still in hand.

"I just opened Katie's gift box of doom." Eames pointed at the unwrapped gift.

"Do I want to know what's in there?"

"You do. Half of it, if not all of it seems more of a gift for you than for me."

"Oh?" Arthur stepped closer, smiling. "Very nice. You know, I'm not entirely sure about keeping you yet, but I'll definitely keep your family."

"Sorry, darling. It's a package deal." He offered Arthur the box. "Here you go. Katie seems to think that I should tempt you with chocolate, then handcuff you to the bed - are those even real... anyway, then handcuff you to the bed, read love poems to you - what's that first one, Dante? Gee, Katie, sis, he was a pedophile - read love poems to you until you are sufficiently bored, make love to you using raspberry flavored lube - hm, interesting, I wonder where she got that - and while you are distracted, slip a ring on your finger. Or, I should propose to you, subsequently be rejected and handcuffed to the bed, console myself by eating chocolate and read sappy love poems at you until hit over the head with a tube of raspberry flavored lube."

Arthur stared at him for the first two sentences, and then began to giggle uncontrollably.

Eames approved. If nothing else, Katie's gift box had managed to make Arthur laugh, and that was a gift in itself.

"Eames," Arthur said, between two gasps for air.

"Yes, darling?"

"Your sister is insane. And Dante was not a pedophile."

"Was, too. Being Italy's most famous poet is no excuse for molesting little girls. And yes, Katie is quite insane."

"You are not going to propose to me, are you?"

"Would you like me to?" Eames raised his brows, more than a little curious to hear the reply.

"God, no. I would be forced to handcuff you to the bed after all." Arthur laughed. "And please don't read any love poems to me either. I'm not sure I could stand Shakespeare's sonnets at this hour and after drinking too much wine with dinner."

"You're drunk?" Eames asked, somewhat amused.

"Only a little." Arthur took a step closer. His cheeks were flushed a lovely shade of rose-pink and his eyes were wide, dark, alluring. Eames unconsciously held his breath. "Drunk enough to be bold, not drunk enough to be stupid."

"What's your definition of stupid?" Eames asked, breathless.

"Well," Arthur said, "thinking that this could end well would be stupid. Enjoying it while I can isn't." He leant in for a kiss, a deep, languid kiss that sent Eames' mind spinning. He pulled Arthur closer, into his arms, flush against his own body, pale, naked skin deliciously soft beneath his hands. Arthur let him. Eames kissed him on the lips, long and lingering, kissed his eyelids, tenderly, and his neck, teasingly, then reopened his eyes to look down at him.

"Arthur...?"

"Mhm?"

"You said all I had to do was ask. I'm asking now."

Arthur smiled a wicked little smile at him. "Oh, good. I thought you would never get to the point."

"Idiot," Eames huffed affectionately, "as if it was me calling the shots here..."

Arthur ignored the comment and calmly took off the remainder of his clothing, before proceeding to open the buttons of Eames' shirt, one by one, with an inappropriately serious look on his face.

He leant forward, lips brushing Eames' chest, before his hands moved to open his belt, the fly of his pants... "I see Katie didn't choose your underwear, at least."

"Tiger stripes just aren't my thing."

"Good." Arthur said with emphasis. "I feel the need to go through your wardrobe and burn everything that's not black or white badly enough as it is."

Eames laughed. "You are very welcome to undress me anytime you feel you can't stand to look at my shirts, darling"

Arthur looked up, hands still at Eames' hips. "Careful now. I might take you up on that offer."

"Please do."

They hovered a moment, waiting, listening to each other's breathing, before Eames lost the last bit of his sorely tried self-restraint, kicked off his pants and boxers, pulled Arthur close and tumbled them onto the bed in a tangle of limbs that he was determined not to let disentangle until well into the next morning.

Eames woke up in a sunny room smelling faintly of raspberries, and the first thing he noticed was that he had apparently forgotten to take his socks off the night before. It was a strangely random observation... especially considering the fact that Arthur was sleeping half on top of him, right arm slung across his chest, dark hair tousled.

He could not remember the last time he had felt this contend, or if he ever had. From this perspective, all the troubles and cares of the outside world seemed rather insignificant.

Of course, though, falling asleep with one of your arms at an odd angle and with someone half on top of you was not necessarily very comfortable - the average human body has a surprising number of protruding edges. Eames was beginning to see his mother's point here - Arthur could stand to gain a bit of weight, if only to soften the edges.

Which means, I need to get you settled down somewhere within range of Mum's cooking. She might get her wish, after all... he smiled to himself. Carefully, he moved his arm and shifted his weigh, drawing Arthur with him into a more comfortable position. Unsurprisingly, the movement woke Arthur up and he started, but Eames caught him before one of his elbows or knees could go astray.

"Good morning."

Arthur blinked, frowned, realized where he was and sighed as if to say 'oh, it's you'. All within the space of two heartbeats.

"There is no need to run," Eames added.

"Or hit you?" Arthur asked with a mischievous smile that suggested that by now, he was fully awake. "You know I don't feel all that safe sleeping without a gun beneath my pillow."

"About that..." Eames said slowly, momentarily distracted by the way Arthur's dark hair fell over his face, "you really should try to hide it better. Julia noticed."

"She did?" Arthur asked, sounding impressed rather than concerned. "She certainly is very observant."

"What I'm saying is, if Julia does, other people might, too. That and other things. Brandon may not have been freaked out by your little defense display, but that's just him. Act like that around anybody else, and they'll run and seek cover."

"That's sort of the point," Arthur replied. "I did not spend years honing those reflexes because I was bored or needed the exercise."

Eames sighed. "Yes, I know. It's your survival instinct, and I'm glad it's so strong, even if it scares me sometimes. But don't you think it would be nice to actually live instead of just survive...?"

Arthur propped himself up on his elbow, bringing them face to face. "What are you saying? Because you are trying to make a point, aren't you? And actually, it's way too early to be having this kind of conversation."

"Humor me, darling. Yes, I am trying to tell you something. I think you've been spending way too much time around the bad guys and too little in the company of normal people."

"Not by choice," Arthur reminded him, frowning. "Besides, I'd like to think that while Dom and the team are not exactly normal, they don't really count as bad guys. We've done plenty of illegal things, but most of them weren't essentially bad. Hell, even Robert Fisher seemed a lot happier with his new life after the Inception Job than the one he had before. Last time I heard of him, he had founded a charity that provides education to underprivileged children in Middle America and was going to publish a book about the project with his photographer boyfriend."

"They got married last spring and adopted a child a couple of months ago, so yes, I'd say, Robert Fisher is pretty happy right now. I won't deny that most of our work with the team hasn't really harmed anybody, at least nobody who had a clean west to begin with. And it's not the part of your life that bothers me, even though, speaking for myself, I'd like to get on the good side of the law sooner or later. Find something slightly less illegal and less likely to get me imprisoned to do. But that's just me. I'm fine with you doing what you do best, as long as you enjoy it."

"What, killing people?" Arthur deadpanned. Eames could tell from his face that he was not happy about the turn their conversation had taken. Well, too bad, pet. We had to discuss it sometime.

"Don't be ridiculous. Regrettably, that's also one of your talents, but not one that I'm likely to ever encourage. And I'd like to think that you at least don't enjoy it. No, I meant working with the team. Dreamsharing, providing intel for jobs, investigating marks, coming up with ingenious plans and seeing them through. It's your alter ego that worries me, the one who plays hit man for the Italian mafia."

"You make it sound as if I chose to be him," Arthur countered sharply. "It wasn't a choice."

Eames shook his head. "Love, there's always a choice. Even if it's sometimes a choice between the devil and the deep blue sea. You chose a deal with the devil, but he got the better end of it. It's time to do something about that. Get even."

"You don't understand," Arthur's voice was quiet, but agitated. "You think you know everything, but you don't even know half of it."

"And whose fault is that...?" Eames asked with more than a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "You're right, I only know what you chose to tell me, and what I have seen, but it's quite enough." He reached out a hand to cup Arthur's face and force him to look at him. "Arthur. I will not watch the man I love destroy himself." He heard the raw emotion in his own voice, the fear, the love, and he saw that Arthur heard it too. Momentarily too stunned to respond, Arthur opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, but said nothing.

"You need to get out. And I will do everything to help you get out. Even if it means taking on the entire Italian mafia, not just your clan."

He watched Arthur swallow hard. "I... I don't know what to say..."

"How about 'yes'? 'Okay' would be fine as well."

Suddenly, he felt Arthur's arms about his neck, and his lips on his own in a crashing kiss, deep and desperate and passionate. They came up, gasping for air, and the first words out of Arthur's mouth were a whisper, but not quiet enough for Eames to miss. "I don't deserve you."

There was no right answer to that, so he tried to make light of it.

"You probably don't. But you're just that lucky."

And so am I.

He drew Arthur down for another kiss, gentler this time and lingering, fingers curling into his soft dark hair. Arthur still had one hand on his neck, holding him close, the other; wedged between them, came to rest on his chest right above his heart. The move was too deliberate to be random.

You may not have said the words yet, but I heard them all the same, Eames thought, and he knew that it was enough.

I will get you out. I have to.

"Let's have breakfast, say goodbye, and go off the grid for a little while," he suggested when the broke the kiss, still lingering in each other's arms. "I'm guessing you know more than one safe place to stay."

Arthur nodded. "Safe is a relative term, but I can make us disappear for a while without causing suspicion. Call Ariadne and tell her that you've convinced me to go Bermuda for a holiday. She'll lap it up like a cat with a bowl of cream and probably start looking for a dress to wear at our wedding." His voice was very dry.

Eames grinned. "Fangirl."

"Absolutely," Arthur agreed. "She won't be able to keep her mouth shut and spread the news to Dom and Yusuf... and probably via Sakura to Saito, and so on."

"Let me guess: we are not going to Bermuda?"

"Of course not."

"Shame. So where...?"

"Canada. I have a lake house in Ontario."

"... which is probably covered by two meters of snow right now." Eames frowned.

"Look on the bright side," Arthur said with a lopsided grin, "you'll get to see me in boots and mittens after all."