Disclaimer: Nope, don't own.

"I wish you would hurry up." Arthur glared down at the man crouched on the floor before him. A small, mischievous smile pulled across Eames' lips and Arthur couldn't help but watch.

"Patience, as they say my dear Arthur, is a virtue." And he went back to scribbling what Arthur suspected was nonsense across the wrist cast the Point man wore.

Cobb paused on his way by the desk to peer over Eames' shoulder, having the advantage that he could actually see what was being written. He chuckled and clapped Eames on the shoulder.

"Very poetic." He said sagely, eyes twinkling with mirth.

"What is?" Ariadne pushed the heavy door of the warehouse shut behind her and wandered her way over to them, unravelling her scarf and unbuttoning her coat as she went. "Arthur," her eyes widened in surprise as she caught sight of the cast. "What happened?"

"Risk of the job." Arthur replied with a shrug.

"But a very, very small risk." Eames continued at Ariadne's worried frown. "Some of Arthur's famous luck ran out for the moment, love. Not to worry."

"Eames," Arthur began, rolling his eyes at the Forger.

"Can I sign your cast?"

"No."

Ariadne blinked, apparently startled that he had said anything but yes to the request.

"You're letting Eames sign it." She pointed out, and she had a valid point. But the only one allowed to touch his cast was Eames and even then it was grudgingly.

"Arthur's got something of a soft spot for Eames." Cobb ignored the glare aimed at him and turned away with a small grin, heading in the direction of his own desk. Ariadne watched him go and then turned back to the pair, surprise and confusion on her face as though she were fitting together the pieces of a particularly interesting puzzle.

He could have told her it was a lie, a very bad one made up to irritate him, but he didn't. He just continued to sit still while the Forger in question used an array of colours to decorate his cast and Ariadne watched.

"Are you almost done?" And it seemed that sitting there, most of the irritation had leaked out of him and the question came out much more gentle than he had intended.

"Just about pet." Came Eames' distracted reply.

Ariadne smiled, nodded to herself and turned to join Cobb across the room, probably for the answers she hadn't surmised and to confirm the ones that she had.

The lid clicked back onto the permanent marker and the pile was placed on the desk. Eames reached out, grabbing hold of the edge to hoist himself up, knees probably sore or asleep from kneeling for so long and Arthur was more than ready to scold him for that when he could have been seated in a chair, when the other man grunted and swayed.

Arthur grasped him around the waist with his good arm and his arm with his other and steadied them both against the desk. He knew what it looked like, Arthur pressing Eames up against the desk in what could only be an intimate position, and he knew that Ariadne was more than likely watching. But he ignored it, worry and guilt churning in his stomach as the other man took a few shallow breaths and blinked to clear his vision.

"Eames?" Arthur smoothed his hand over the wretched paisley material covering the other mans chest. "Are you alright?"

"Fine love," His voice was soft and breathy and his hold on Arthur's shoulders were like a vice grip. "Just need to catch my breath."

"I'm sorry." Arthur mumbled, head falling forwards to rest on the Forgers exposed collarbone. The bruising didn't quite make it past the collar of the ridiculous shirt but Arthur had seen the marks first hand, had patched them up and worried over them and had been the cause of them.

"Stop apologizing." Eames' hands slid from his shoulders to rest down his back. "And if we stay like this much longer Ariadne's going to assume we're desperately in love." The joke fell flat and Arthur couldn't bring himself to so much as budge. In fact, he was trying to come up with ways to get closer, to erase the marks from the other mans skin, to crawl inside and never let him go, to never let this happen again. "Oh love." Eames murmured, lips pressed against his temple in a chaste kiss. "What am I going to do with you?"

Arthur pulled back, conscious of the curious eyes watching from across the room and grasped Eames' hand gently. He pressed a quick kiss to the calloused palm, a promise for something. He just wasn't sure what, yet.

"We have planning to do." He murmured, settling back into his chair, only slightly surprised when Eames perched on the edge of his desk instead of returning to his own. Eames offered his own ridiculous smile and slid closer, pushing papers out of the way and sending the piles into disarray, but Arthur couldn't bring himself to mind when the end result was Eames leg pressed against his arm and the man in question very much alive and well next to him.