Reception (Inception, Eames/Arthur)

Things are different between them after the Rabat job. Arthur had spent the majority of two days passed out with Eames in a run-down motel before Cobb had joined them and they got the hell out of Morocco. He didn’t remember much from those two days. Shock and exhaustion, Eames had said. It wasn’t the first time Arthur had been shot at, but it was the first time he’d come that close to actually getting shot and the first time an operation had gone that far south. He could have died. They could have all died, except for Eames who seemed to have some magical ability to dodge bullets in the midst of a firefight. They would have been dead without him, and the whole situation had led Arthur to drastically revise his opinion of Eames.

Eames had picked up on Arthur’s change of heart without him even saying anything. Or maybe he had said something, in the motel in Rabat, and just didn’t remember what he’d said. It was entirely possible. In public, Eames was mostly unchanged. The flirting was turned up a notch, but there wasn’t any surprise in that. It was what he said in private that made Arthur’s skin flush and his heart race.

In Cairo, two months after the Rabat job, Eames had leaned on the table next to Arthur as Arthur’d been organizing design specs and whispered hot against his ear, “You know, darling, I think you’ve made an addict out of me, because I can’t stop picturing you naked and pliant in that bathtub. We’ll have to try it again sometime, only with you conscious.” Arthur had turned beet red, his mouth hanging open but no words coming out. Eames had put one finger on his chin and closed it for Arthur. “You’d better keep that shut or I’ll take it as an invitation.” Eames laughed a little as he drew away and added, “You’re cute when you blush.” Arthur was pretty sure he’d been red-faced the rest of the day.

In Hamburg, Eames had put his hands on Arthur’s hips and described in lurid detail exactly how he could make Arthur scream. Arthur had been very glad for the table that hid his instant erection from view. In Luxemburg, Eames offered to share a hotel room and mentioned that the pillows might suit Arthur’s appetite. In Melborne, he’d waited until Cobb left the dinner table to tell Arthur how much he wanted to take Arthur into the bathroom and fuck Arthur until he couldn’t walk home. In Sapporo, Arthur had dropped to the floor to pick up a pencil that had rolled under the table. When he’d crawled out, Eames had stolen Arthur’s chair and remarked how good Arthur looked on his knees.