Eames awoke to the sun's bright rays spilling through the open curtains, the chill of the morning air making his naked skin break out in goose bumps. It only took one breath, the scent of Arthur's cologne, of musk and sweat and sex, to bring back all the memories of the night before. A rush of butterflies filled him and he grinned into his pillow.

His arm reached out to the other side of the bed but all he felt were cool, empty sheets. His heart dropped and the knot in his stomach that had finally dissolved during last night's actions made itself known again.

Arthur was gone. He had had his fun the night before but had decided he didn't want any more to do with it, so he had left, knowing that his absence would be explanation enough.

Eames sat up, turning and scanning the room. Arthur's clothes were gone. It was almost as if he'd never been there. He swallowed hard, rubbing his hand over his face. This wasn't the end of the world, he reminded himself. He'd been through this before, he could handle it again. He would have to, wouldn't he? It would probably be even harder this time, now that he had gotten a taste of what he had been missing. Because he knew what Arthur felt like now. What he tasted like. How his eyes looked when they were filled with lust for him. Or so he had thought.

He must have done something wrong. Maybe he had misinterpreted what Arthur had wanted last night. Maybe he'd only wanted to talk about what exactly they felt towards one another, because if he was being honest with himself, it hadn't been covered in great detail. He should have stopped them and insisted on taking it slow. Of course his libido had harbored other ideas. If anyone had to be blamed for this, it would be him.

He groaned and sat up in bed, throwing his legs over the side and starting to gather up articles of clothing, tugging on his boxers and a pair of pants. He wasn't sure what to do with himself yet. Either go about his daily routine pretending nothing had happened or get piss drunk as soon as he could.

He had a feeling the night before would come swimming back to him if he did the latter. The feel of Arthur's smooth skin, the earnestness in his movements, those noises he had made. And if anything he wanted to forget those things, and start reburying his devotion to the man.

The bedroom door was open, and he padded into the living room, fiddling with his belt morosely.

"Do you have any coffee?"

Eames' head whipped up so fast he thought he might have whiplash later, but all he could think of now was Arthur. He was still here, in his kitchen, his hair soft and disheveled, his pants wrinkled and his shirt only halfway buttoned and rolled up his forearms, asking for coffee.

Here. With him. He was still with him.

His shock must have been written all over his face, for Arthur gave him a questioning sidelong glance as he stepped closer, his lips turning up in a confused smile.

"You're still here," Eames murmured, his hands dropping to his sides.

Arthur continued to look confused for a second longer before an exasperated sigh left him and he closed the distance between them. Under the false sense of Arthur humoring him, Eames could see the sincerity in his eyes as he leaned in close.

"Eames, I'm not going anywhere. Especially without you knowing. Am I making myself clear?"

Eames felt his whole being fill with warmth, and he ducked his head to keep a vastly relieved smile from appearing on his face. The words he had let slip from his memory before came back to him, reminding him in Arthur's own words that he wouldn't be here if he didn't want to be. He supposed he should try to remember that.

"Yes sir," he said when he could speak again. "I will never doubt again."

Arthur smiled, his finger hooking in one of Eames' belt loops. "Quoting Princess Bride already? Inconceivable." He leaned in and kissed Eames on the lips, a smile still curving his own. Eames grinned against the other man's mouth, feeling himself fall for him even deeper. And accepting that maybe this time it wasn't such a bad idea.

Eames pulled back after a moment, licking his lips and searching Arthur's face. "I believe I heard you say you wanted some coffee."

A/N: Felt like writing some fluff after all that angst. This is not over. I'm currently working on a sequel as well as maybe a version of this in Arthur's point of view, but the sequel is more probable. Feedback would be lovely on what you guys would want more. I'm so grateful for everyone reading this, thank you guys so much!