"Thank you," Eames says with a slight nod and a gentle smile tinting his lips.

"Not at all. Good luck with your proposal," the jeweler responds, handing him the small bag that has the chosen engagement ring and the ring box that comes with it inside.

The Englishman chuckles. "I'm sure I'll need it. Cheers, mate." After giving the elder man a two finger salute, Eames turns and makes his way out of the shop.

As he briskly walks back to his car, he feels a prickling sensation and immediately thinks that everyone around is watching him, knowing exactly what he plans to do. He ignores it, but once he's safely tucked in his vehicle, he pulls out the ring box with the ring inside of it and shoves it into his pockets before hiding the bag under a pile of unorganized CDs. He'll need to throw that away later, but for now, he has to get back home before Arthur gets impatient.

It's been at least three years since their first date, and what a glorious three years it was! In the first two years, he was still running around, high on life. The third year, though, he finally decided that it was time to settle down a bit, and by settling down, he meant moving in with Arthur, who had "retired" (since Dom wasn't in the business anymore), and messing his house up.

Arthur didn't seem to mind (although Eames was yelled and threatened at gunpoint a couple of times). Other than that, he was free to walk around half naked and crawl into Arthur's bed using the "I still haven't found my teddy" excuse.

Living together drastically changed Eames' views of the ex-point man. Before, he saw the other as a stick in the mud, salad eating, animal hating man. Now, he can very well say that Arthur is a child at heart. Not to mention, his liking toward Arthur turned into love, which is definitely something, because Eames previously had no intentions of falling for him; honestly, back three years ago, his entire goal was to get a date with Arthur. At this moment, confronted by his feelings, his aim is for Arthur to say "yes".

The thing about proposing, though, is that Eames wants to make it not only memorable, but special as well. He thought about taking Arthur out to dinner and then getting on one knee after wards, but that way of proposing is completely overused and lacks creativity. He wants to do something spectacular, something unordinary, and the problem with that is that Arthur will probably be embarrassed and run away.

It took Eames a lot of thinking, but yesterday night, it came to him: he's going to give the idea to Arthur.

He's excited about this, but at the same time, he's nervous. Although he's nearly positive that Arthur will say "yes", a little part of him comes up with reasons why he would say "no". That's why, when he pulls into the driveway of their house, he turns off the engine and just sits there and thinks.

His mind buzzes with what to say, but more importantly, where to hide the ring. He knows that Arthur is a particularly good finder, especially when he's on his cleaning spree, which is once a week on Saturday (Eames knows this, because Saturdays are usually the days he wakes up hearing the vacuum). There's absolutely no place where he can hide something without it being found, and that's a proven fact (a couple of months ago, he bought a tie for Arthur's birthday and hid it underneath the mattress; well, after their intense, ahem, session that moved the mattress a bit, Arthur decided to push the it back into place, and eureka! found the tie).

Eames thinks a sock will be sufficient, though, but what if Arthur suddenly decides to empty his sock drawer and wash all of them again, even when they are clean?

Or, he can hide it in the car, but Arthur sometimes uses this car as well, and he tends to snoop for reasons that Eames finds completely unnecessary ("I was looking for your candy stash, and by candy, I mean condoms").

It's not like Arthur suspects him of cheating, because Eames knows that if he does (which he won't), Arthur will have his head, and not in the good way either. Arthur's just simply a motherfucker who collects all the condoms in Eames' car, so that they're not tempted to do anything to ruin the nice leather smell.

So a sock it is.

Somewhat content with this, Eames pushes the car door open and steps out into the breezy fall day. After taking one look at the house, he notes that the lights are on in their bedroom but not anywhere else, meaning Arthur's in that room. Fishing out his keys, the Englishman proceeds toward the door and unlocks it.

"I'm home!" he calls out as he closes and secures the door behind him.

Instead of hearing an "I'm upstairs!" from Arthur like he expects, he gets brutally shoved against the door. "Where have you been?" his partner hisses, and it doesn't take light to see that Arthur is practically seething.

"Out," Eames answers immediately, bringing his hand up to wrap around the hand fisting his shirt. "I called you and told you that I'm going to be an hour late."

"You're an hour and twelve minutes late."

Hearing this, the ex-forger laughs. Arthur, apparently, likes to fake being pissed off, which is a good and a bad thing; it's good because he's actually not angry at Eames, and bad because sometimes Eames thinks that it's real and resorts to apologizing.

"Don't scare me like that, darling," he murmurs, leaning over and kissing Arthur's nose before drawing away to flip on the lights. As he takes in the sight of his mate, a small smile curls up on his lips. "Hello," Eames greets again while pressing himself against Arthur's robed body. "Miss me?"

Arthur, in return, sighs and proceeds to loosen up Eames' tie. "Of course, but dinner's missing you more. You left it cold for twelve minutes." After removing the tie from around Eames' neck, Arthur leans in and pecks his lips. "Go take a shower."

"Take it with me?" Eames asks nonchalantly as he takes his shoes off and makes his way up the stairs.

"You missed me by thirty minutes. Now, go. I'll warm up your food again, and oh, when you're done up there, turn off the lights."

"Alright, alright." Shaking his head and laughing a bit, Eames continues up the stairs, thoroughly pleased that Arthur didn't notice the bulge in his right pocket.

The moment he steps into the bedroom, his walk turns into a slight run as he ushers toward his sock drawer, tugs it open, and grabs a random sock. After stuffing the ring box in and throwing a couple of other socks on top of it, he closes the drawer and moves over to their shared closet.

It's only in the shower does he realize that Arthur might open his sock drawer, see that none of his socks are matched up, and start pairing them together. If that's the case, then it's just Eames' luck. He just ... has to keep it on him during the day.

Stepping out fully clothed and clean, the ex-forger makes his way down the stairs to the kitchen table where Arthur is currently sitting at and reading a book.

"Rereading that?" Eames asks, pulling out a chair and seating himself next to his partner. "You've been on that book for a week now."

Arthur, without taking his eyes off the page, pushes Eames' dinner toward him. "It has 784 pages, and I've been busy this past week."

"Of course you have," Eames responds nonchalantly as he sticks a piece of chicken into his mouth and chews thoughtfully. "Retiring means to leave the job." He pats the back of Arthur's hand before curling his fingers around his thumb.

"I'm not hired by Cobol anymore."

"And yet, you still do research for dreamsharing jobs."

"Ariadne needs the very best point man, and I am the very best."

Eames shoves another piece of chicken into his mouth so that he doesn't need to respond. He doesn't like it when Arthur gets defensive, because that usually leads to him getting ticked. And as he examined before, a pissed Arthur isn't lovely.

"How about we take a break? There's this carnival over in the next town that opens tomorrow."

Arthur sighs and places a bookmark between the pages he's reading. "A carnival," he repeats, peering at Eames in the eye. "You're not joking."

The Englishman smiles, and that's all he has to do for Arthur to look off irritably and mumble "fine".

Eames goes to bed with his thoughts jumbled that night. He's going to propose tomorrow— or, well, he's going to give the idea to Arthur tomorrow, and then hopefully propose.

The next morning, he gets up jittery. His steps have a light bounce to them as he ushers to get ready, and of course, this doesn't go unnoticed by Arthur.

"Are you alright?" Arthur asks, gazing at him with his eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly.

Eames flashes a grin. "Yes, of course. Just a tad excited for the carnival. Haven't been to one since I was a child, actually." He slips on a shirt before heading over to the drawer to grab his wallet. "We're going to have a wonderful time today."

"I can imagine," the ex-point man mumbles. "I'll prepare lunch. Hurry down." After giving the instructions, Arthur heads out of the bedroom. A couple of seconds later, Eames hears footsteps bounding down the stairs.

He lets out a slow breath. Good. So far, he has escaped suspicion. With another deep exhale, he calms himself and crouches down to pull open his sock drawer. It doesn't take him long to dig through the mess to find and fish out the ring box. The mere sight of it sends his heart beating quicker— in just a few hours, he's going to present it to the other, but only if Arthur gets the hint; Arthur's a smart fellow, so he should, but there's still no guarantee.

They're in the car and on the road by two. Everything is fine and dandy until Arthur takes special notice of the CDs in center console tray between their seats.

"Eames, you need to organize these CDs. They're going to end up broken and—" Out of the corner of his eye, Eames can see Arthur leaning over to arrange it, and he immediately thinks 'oh, shit'. He wants to smack himself for not tossing the bag away while he was around the shopping center— why hadn't he? Because he was much too busy trying to calm down his nerves to think correctly. Right.

"I'll organize it later," he responds urgently, taking one of his hands off the wheel and grabbing Arthur's wandering one. "Just relax." He brings the hand up to his lips and places a chaste kiss on it.

"Eames, are you hiding candy again?" He can feel Arthur's glare burning into him, daring him to lie, but Eames doesn't have a reason to lie, because there aren't any in the car. Or at least, none to his knowledge.

"No, of course not. You took them all out." Eames glances over at his partner quickly before turning back to the road.

Arthur doesn't seem satisfied. "Yes, of course," he answers, but with his other hand, he plunges into the pile of CDs, and, much to Eames' horror, pulls out the bag. "Kay Jewelers?" Fuck. "What did you buy?"

"Something." Eames gives Arthur another one of his smiles before reaching over and snagging the bag back (the damn receipt is in there too).

"Something— let me guess, another watch?" Eames intellectually decides not to answer, which makes Arthur sigh. "You have at least ten, and out of those ten, you only wear one."

"Arthur, please," he starts, pulling into a parking space and turning off the engine. "Let's just enjoy ourselves today and not worry about anything."

Arthur gives him an irritated look, but Eames bats it away with a kiss. By now, he knows how to twist the younger man around his finger; he knows how to calm the other down— most of the time— and that's with a gentle kiss. Simple, delicate— it's all Arthur needs to forget about lecturing him.

"Alright. Fine." Arthur grumbles as he moves out of the car.

Eames immediately follows suit. "Don't be like that, Arthur." He says as he closes the door and rounds the car to wrap his arm around the ex-point man's waist. "I love you," he whispers, nudging him a bit.

"Eames."

"I want our love to be like pi— irrational and never ending." His heart is positively thundering against his chest as he utters this pick up line, because if Arthur clues in, that means he's getting on one knee.

But Arthur doesn't pick up the hint.

"I'm going to buy our admission," he states, pushing himself away from the Englishman.

Eames isn't entirely sure if he should be feeling gleeful or not. Yes, he got out of proposing, but if Arthur didn't catch that—

He has to try another one, but not now— perhaps at a restaurant or somewhere else more ... romantic.

Holding that in mind, Eames tails Arthur to the carnival's entrance.

... ~ ...

Arthur is embarrassed. He has been standing here for almost ten minutes now, and the carnie looks like he's about to die from keeping his laughter in. Not that Arthur blames him; Eames' throws are way off, and when he offered to throw one, Eames responded with "oh, no; that would defeat the purpose of me winning you something." Furthermore, a crowd decides to gather around, making Arthur more uncomfortable.

"You're being outrageous, Eames," he states with his arms folded across his chest. "You already spent fifteen. You're not going to get it."

"The least you can do is encourage me, darling. I'm doing this for you." Eames gives him a gentle smile before turning toward the game and hurling another one of the rock-hard balls at the standing plates. He misses, like nine times before.

"Honestly, I don't need a stuffed animal," he huffs. "Eames, I'm thirty-two."

"Nonsense, Arthur. Cobb still has stuffed animals in his house."

Arthur can't believe him, because that's the most— "He has kids— two kids."

"Right, right." Eames replies as he hands another five dollar bill over to the carnie. "Okay, I'm done after this." Though Arthur doesn't believe that, he simply sighs and gazes off.

He hears the first of the three balls hitting the mattress behind the plates. The second one misses too. And the third— ah, nope. Missed.

"Okay, let's go." Arthur grabs Eames' wrist and gently tugs him away, but Eames doesn't budge.

"One more?" he asks with a slight pout.

And if the crowd isn't chanting "one more time!", then Arthur wouldn't have let go, but since they are, he releases his grasp and stands back, ticked.

"One more time," he says sternly, giving his partner a pointed look.

"Say, how 'bout a free throw, yeah?" The carnie winks at Arthur before handing a ball to Eames. "Go ahead. Lucky ball you go there, too. Many won from that one."

Arthur resists the temptation to roll his eyes.

But Eames hits the plate, and it shatters. So maybe it is a lucky ball.

"And he finally hits one, ladies and gentlemen! Now, which one do you want?"

Arthur peers up at the stuffed animals, makes a face, then glances over at Eames, who, along with the others, are looking at him intently. Figuring that he has to choose, he gazes up again and nods once at the large snake. "That one."

"This one?" the carnie points to the snake. Arthur nods. "Alrighty, then. Here ya go."

After catching the large stuffed animal, Arthur grabs Eames' hand and drags him away from the gaming booth. "Never again," he mutters over and over until they're behind a tent, where Arthur successfully manages to transfer the snake over to his partner. "Never do that again. Never. Never. People were watching. They were laughing, and—" Arthur slaps him lightly. "Are you listening?"

No, Eames is not. He's laughing like it's actually hilarious when it's absolutely not.

"Eames, stop that." Another slap. "It's not that funny— it's not funny at all, actually." Slap. "People are going to think you're high. Eames—" Kiss.

Okay, that shuts him up. Good. And oh— oh.

He shouldn't have done that. Anyone could have seen it.

Pulling away, Arthur desperately fights the blush rising in his cheeks.

Fortunately, Eames doesn't take notice; instead he asks, "Do you like funnel cake?" and gives Arthur's hand a slight squeeze.

Arthur wrinkles his nose a bit. He isn't the biggest fan of funnel cake; the powder always ends up on his outfit, and not to mention, it's greasy on top of sweet. But, nevertheless, he glances around and spies a vendor selling that specific treat. "Somewhat," he answers, turning back to Eames. "Why, do you want one?"

"Oh, no, no, I'm just asking—"

Sometimes Arthur just really loves Eames; other times he wants to fucking slaughter him. This is one of the moments in which Arthur doesn't know whether to love or hate him, but he doesn't linger on the thoughts.

"We're getting one, then." he states, pulling Eames along to the stand in order to purchase a plate. After thanking the seller, he drags his partner to the side and holds the treat in front of him.

"Thank you, my dear." Eames kisses his cheek. "You know me too well."

Arthur heaves another sigh as he gazes off, allowing Eames to pig out over the funnel cake. Within five minutes or so, the plate is drawn from him, and something pokes him in the cheek. Frowning, he glances over and opens his mouth to make a comment about how rude that was, but before he can, a piece of funnel cake is shoved into his mouth, giving him no choice but to chew.

"Delightful, isn't it?" Eames questions while picking up another piece and poking Arthur's lips with it. "A bit fattening, but good, nonetheless."

Arthur leans back and shakes his head. "I had enough."

Eames gives him a look. "You sure?"

Brown eyes flicker down to the half-eaten funnel cake as he considers. He shouldn't be eating this stuff, but it's actually good, dammit.

"One more bite."

Well, that one bite turns into a couple more bites, and within another five minutes, the plate is clean. After throwing it away along with the napkins they wiped their sticky fingers on, Arthur allows Eames to take his hand as they walk.

Conversation ceases to rise as they make their way through the crowded carnival, but Arthur finds the quiet moments between them to be one of the loudest. Just having Eames hold his hand makes him truly smile (which is something hard to achieve). It allows him to actually feel wanted. He never had these emotions before, and in a way, that makes him scared. To him, it feels like he's clinging onto Eames— like he doesn't want him to go. He's also cautious when he does or says things; he's afraid that one day Eames would pack up and leave. And the amount of fear he has for losing his current partner makes him feel vulnerable and absolutely pathetic.

But hopefully, Eames leaving is not any time soon.

It's been a year since Eames dropped by with his bags and told him that he was moving in. Arthur rejected him at first, as expected, but when he made the decision to let the other stay, he can very well say that it's the best decision he had ever made. He grew close to the Englishman but not only that; he found himself happy. He found himself waking up each morning, grinning at the sight of Eames sleeping beside him. He found himself smiling every night as he closed his eyes. And above all, he found love.

Arthur finds it hilarious how he's even here, walking with Eames in a fucking carnival, holding hands, and trying to conceal a smile. Just a couple of years ago, if Eames made any move like he did a few minutes back, Arthur would have his head.

Eames definitely made him softer. Of course, he's still the badass motherfucker everyone knows about; it's just that ... Eames, of all people, made him stop and think before spitting out insults.

He remembers the one time— that one time — he insulted Eames, and the other actually teared up. He's not sure if Eames was faking it or not, but Arthur still cringes at the thought of it. He didn't mean to say it; it just slipped out, but never again will that happen. And he'll make sure of that.

"You know," Eames starts, dragging Arthur out of his thoughts, "Dr. Phil said that I'm afraid of commitment. I'm determined to prove him wrong, and I want you to help me with it."

Arthur peers over at his boyfriend, his expression masked with confusion. He isn't entirely sure if that's a pick up line or not— it sounds like one, but at the same time, it's almost like ... a proposal. But he knows Eames well; if Eames is going to propose (which, Arthur hopes), then he'll probably put his imagination into good use and come up with a silly proposal idea. Arthur looks forward to that day.

"I think you're committed enough," he answers, nodding once at the snake slung around Eames' neck.

Eames breaks into a smile then a laugh. "That was a lot of commitment, wasn't it?"

Arthur ignores the gut feeling that's nudging him, telling him that Eames is definitely implying something, with a small smile. "Are we ready to go home? We've been here for—" He glances briefly at his watch. "— three hours."

The ex-forger peers around, noting the people, before turning back and nodding. "Yeah. Let's go."

It takes them longer to get home, since they left around the time everyone gets off from work, but Arthur doesn't mind; he's holding a hearty conversation with Eames about Nash and how he sold him and Dom out, to which Eames responds with a look that clearly reads 'I told you so.'

Once at home, Eames passes out on the couch, and Arthur goes to take a shower. He's completely worn out, since Eames dragged him onto rides that upset his stomach for a little bit. Not to mention, they also walked for two hours straight. So, needless to say, after the shower, he curls up in bed to sleep, and nearly an hour later, wakes up to Eames climbing into bed with him.

After that bit of time spent together, Arthur finds himself buried in research for Ariadne. It's complicated and utterly frustrating, but he manages to get through the entire week. Once Ariadne tells him that the job goes successfully, he finally relaxes, and Eames, being the observant fellow he is, invites him for a drink as celebration. Arthur can't say no to that.

That's how he finds himself in a bar but not just any bar; it's a familiar bar full of drunks dancing and singing. From the looks of it, nothing has changed— well except for the bartender. The stools are the same, the music have the same sort of beat— it's like he went back in time.

"I'm going to find the loo. Order me a drink, will you?" Arthur nods at Eames' request, understanding.

As Eames disappears among the crowd, Arthur waves over the bartender and orders a drink as specified. The bartender's a nice man, somewhat doubled his own age, but much better than the one Arthur had eight or something years ago.

Sipping on his drink, the ex-point man glances around. This place, despite its reputation with him, brings back many memories. He remembers sitting here and observing Eames for the first time— Eames was dancing with many others, and he had absolutely distasteful dance moves (Arthur's happy to say that those dance moves improved over time). He also remembers when Eames caught his eye for a split second, and with that one look, Eames came over and said—

"Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?"

Arthur tilts his head to the side to see Eames snagging the stool beside him.

"You tell me, Mr. Eames," he responds, handing the alcoholic drink over to Eames, who takes it with a smile.

The ex-forger gives him a gentle smile before taking a sip of the drink. "You only ordered one?"

"You're not getting drunk again," Arthur responds firmly. He remembers the last time Eames got extremely drunk— never again does he want to play hide and seek with a naked man.

"Your concern is much appreciated, but I can hold my alcohol well, thank you."

Arthur gives him a stern look before stealing the drink back and taking another sip. The beer flows down his throat, burning it almost. He winces. He doesn't drink beer often— it's usually champagne or wine. Beer has this fizz to it that makes him cringe a bit, but it's alcohol all the same, at least, according to Eames.

"But aside from that, this is the first time we saw each other, mm?" Eames takes a look around before his eyes settle back on Arthur's own.

Arthur grins in agreement. "Brings back memories."

"Certainly," the Englishman responds before downing the rest of the drink.

Arthur scowls a bit. "We were supposed to share that," he states bluntly, giving his partner the 'are you fucking kidding me?' look.

"Oh?" Eames quirks an eyebrow as he places the glass back on the counter. "We were? My bad. I'll order another one—"

"No, I'm fine." He quickly grabs Eames' hand that's waving the bartender over. "Dance?" He doesn't mind dancing as long as it draws Eames away from the alcohol, and fortunately for him, Eames cooperates.

Arthur slides off the stool and allows himself to be tugged toward the dance floor. Once among the crowd of moving bodies, he slings his arms around Eames' neck and pulls him close. Eames returns the gesture by grabbing Arthur's hips and drawing him in.

"We didn't do this last time we were here," Eames murmurs, "because you ran away."

Arthur grins against his boyfriend's shoulder. "I had a job."

"A minute's dance wouldn't have harmed you."

Arthur doesn't reply to that since Eames is grinding against him. Instead, he picks his head off of his partner's shoulder in order to peer up at him. A light smile is tainted on Eames' lips, making Arthur grin in return.

"Have I ever told you that you're absolutely gorgeous?" Eames questions.

"Yes, a couple of times, actually." Arthur leans in, pressing their chests together. "And you're undeniably handsome."

Eames chuckles. "You're not drunk are you, darling?"

"No," the ex-point man breathes out. "Just intoxicated by you."

For a while, not one word is uttered. Eames simply moves along with the beat of the music, and Arthur does his best to mimick it. After a couple of minutes of mindless grinding and whatnot, Arthur takes note of something pressing against his thigh.

"What's in your pocket?" he questions, blinking up at his mate.

Something crosses Eames' face for a moment, but it flickers away before he can interpret it. "Anything but candy."

Arthur rolls his eyes but ignores it nonetheless. "Come on, let's get out of here." Taking Eames' hand, he leads him away from the dancing crowd and out the bar's door. "Well, that was something," he begins once outside.

"Originally I planned to stay an hour longer," Eames admits, "but oh well. Fancy a walk?"

Arthur peers down the crowded streets. "It's almost eleven, though." His eyes skim the people milling around, carrying shopping bags, talking with friends, or trying to catch a taxi. "We should be getting back."

"You worry too much. We'll be back before midnight." Eames squeezes his hand and gives him a pouty look. And again, Arthur can't help himself.

"Alright, but we're not buying anything."

Eames laughs softly. "I don't think that would be necessary. I have everything I want here with me."

Arthur breaks into a grin once more as Eames pecks his nose and then proceeds to tug him down the sidewalk.

His mind is in a jumble. He wants to say something back— it only feels right to do so, but what can he say? It feels like he already said everything that there is to be said, and things that can't be said are already shown. He'll think of something, and sooner or later, Eames is going to be the one silent and flushing, but not this time.

"Hey," Eames starts suddenly, snapping Arthur from his trance, "it's a cake shop." He points to a small store excitedly.

"We're not buying a cake," Arthur stresses in reply, but he's already being dragged in the direction of the tiny shop. "Eames, seriously. I can make a cake, and we can decorate—"

They stop abruptly in front of the glass that's displaying many fancy cakes. "Wouldn't we look adorable on a wedding cake together?" Eames asks almost breathlessly.

"Yes, we—" Arthur halts in the middle of his words as he allows the question to sink in.

Did Eames just— is he implying something? Eames has been hinting at something the entire week, and now, Arthur has a fair idea of what he's trying to hint at— but it doesn't make any sense. Well, Eames is a person that doesn't make sense, but still, it's like he's attempting to give Arthur the idea. And when the idea's given to him, Arthur feels giddy.

"Are you trying to propose to me?" he asks slowly, eyes turning to his partner.

Eames nonchalantly glances in his direction. "Maybe."

"Maybe?" Arthur demands, feeling the excitement rise within him.

Eames reaches into his pocket as he responds. "You tell me, Arthur." He pulls out something from his pocket, and Arthur's breath hitches at the sight of it. It's a ring box.

"Eames," he says, his voice wavering a bit.

The other ignores that and gets down on one knee, making Arthur's eyes widen. "Will you marry me?"

Arthur stares, his mouth slightly ajar. For a moment, he watches Eames' unfaltering, smiling face as his mind slowly processes the question. And when it finally sinks in—

Oh my God.

Suddenly, everyone around them, looking or not, doesn't matter. Arthur brings his hand up to cover his mouth, pushing back the squeals that threaten to escape, and then he nods, giving Eames his answer.

Eames, smiling wider, rises to his feet and envelopes him with his arms immediately after the nods. And Arthur, in response, quickly removes the hand from his mouth to return the hug.

After finding his voice, Arthur speaks up. "Yes," he murmurs, pulling back and kissing Eames once. "Yes."

... ~ ...

After receiving a call from an excited Arthur about his engagement to Eames (Dom could hardly believe his ears), he immediately called Ariadne, and both of them began planning. The wedding took nearly a year to get together, but it's definitely worth it, because now, Arthur and Eames are standing not too far away from him, both decked in lovely suits, telling each other their vowels. And when they both say "I do", Dom has only one thought: finally.

... ~ finished ~ ...

Notes;; This chapter frustrated me so much. askhdashdasj— D8;; But I managed. Hope it was alright! Aside from that, thank you all for reading and reviewing, and special thanks to those who submitted pick up lines!