drabble - John and Eames (Agoge)

[pixiesticks]

They’re drinking their weight in alcohol and giggling like maniacs when John steals in front of Eames the first time.

Well, maybe not their weight, but it’s a near thing.

Eames chuckles near John’s face, and he can tell from his expression that the mystery meat doesn’t smell very good.

“Something die on your tongue?”

“Piss off,” Eames tells him cheerily, leaning in toward his nose as revenge, and John pretends to gag.

“Truly. Like roadkill.”

“Such a treasured friend, you are,” Eames says, laughing by now again. It’s warm in this Aranean bar, and Eames is having a little trouble not getting sleepy.

“Speaking of treasure,” John says quietly, looking to another table. Eames has been leading the clothing trends, and so more and more Araneans have been wearing fancier, gaudier things, like bright gold cufflinks. John gets up, and Eames watches him swipe the cufflinks before getting them refills.

“Nicely done,” Eames says with zero judgment, taking his drink happily. He pauses with it poised near his mouth. “Oi.”

He nods up at the entrance, and John looks up and sees Dorian, his expression changing subtly but cryptically in Eames’ eyes.

“I should go. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Eames just hums, drinking deeply until John’s at the entrance. He speaks softly to Dorian, a hand on his shoulder. Sometimes, Eames wonders... He watches them walk off together. Speaking of treasure...


The first time John sees Eames steal, they’re neck-deep in a difficult mission. He’d told Dorian where he was going, and Dorian was deeply involved in the politics of the court. It’s fine to be apart. Eames, on the other hand, has not mentioned the other dream guy, and he’s beginning to wonder if that was intentional.

They’ve broken into the Chchai manor and are creeping around together, looking through whatever furniture is left: a chest here, a corner table there. There’s not much, or at least not what they were particularly hoping to find: a journal of their secrets or papers with something secretive. Something that would make them a target of being wiped out.

Eames coughs. “Haven’t they cleaned in here since?”

“Are you that sensitive? I’ve been in places way dirtier than this.”

“I’m sure you have,” he mutters back, and John laughs under his breath.

“Find something useful.”

“I think I have,” Eames says, and John moves over to his side, raising a brow at the expensive-looking wall decoration made of silk. Eames slides it in his jacket and John rolls his eyes.


When they return to the courtyard where they’re staying, he sees Arthur standing there, obviously waiting for Eames. He sees relief and then anger flash across his face.

“Excuse me, will you? Urgent business,” Eames murmurs, and then Arthur’s leading him back to what John supposes is Arthur’s room. Urgent business. Hm.


It’s a grand ball, that they all have to end up attending. Everyone looks immaculate, handsome, beautiful. They’re not doing too badly in the manners department either. Eames manages to spend most of the evening with Arthur, but he notices John and Dorian about halfway through the evening, both clean and handsome, their heads bowed together as they talk quietly.

He catches John’s eye, and the other man grins, excusing himself and meeting Eames at the buffet table.

“Trying mystery meat again?” he asks, slapping him on the back in a friendly manner. Eames smirks.

“Not tonight. How’s Dorian?”

John stiffens a little. “He seems to be fine.” Not missing a beat, his gaze flickers to Arthur talking to Dany. “And Arthur?”

Eames’ smile goes a little thin, but he nods. “Fine, I think. Here to steal anything tonight?”

Dorian touches John’s shoulder then, smiling indulgently and murmuring something before going to talk to someone else. Eames watches with interest, his gaze sliding back to John’s.

“Or perhaps you’ve already stolen something.”

John hesitates for a moment before he looks down, smirking. “I think maybe you have too. Go see him,” he says as Arthur smiles and gestures at Eames to come over.

Eames pauses, stuffs his hands in his pockets, and then smiles quietly. “Yeah, okay.”