NSFW drabble - arthur + eames (agoge in the future)

[pixiesticks]

Every morning, Eames goes through Arthur’s clothes. It sounds weird, but it’s comforting for him here in this crazy place, where everything is so different, where the rules have changed, and Eames is terrified about it. Arthur’s gathered quite a few suits by now. A nice, clean-cut navy suit. A textured gray suit coat with a light plaid design on it. Argyle socks in dark red.

He never picks out what he should wear. Eames is not really that fashionable, not like Arthur, at least. So he leaves it to Arthur, but he traces the patterns with a finger, line after line, and looks forward to being able to do the same thing the next morning.



They have a routine now. Eames gets up earlier, does his strange ritual with Arthur’s clothes, ripping open the closet as if they won’t be there. But they’re there, and Arthur’s there, watching him from the bed. They eat breakfast a little after that. Then they convene about what’s happening in Jhashch, reveal what they learned the day before and try to piece the information together.

They go about their own business for most of the rest of the day, and meet up for dinner and a drink at a bar. Then they go back to their room, fuck, and then they have their quiet moments, as Arthur thinks of them. They don’t talk much, tired and post-orgasmic, but they sit there, Eames sketching a face in his notebook, Arthur going over his notes on his next mission he’s thinking about. And it’s nice, having a warm body next to you, that you know will be there in the morning.

When Eames wakens, he looks through Arthur’s clothes again.



Pretty soon, Eames notices some of Arthur’s scars. Some of them are, of course, from gun shot wounds and stab wounds, but others are from Arthur crashing his bike when he was ten, or that one time he sliced his finger open making a salad. Still, Eames treats every single one with thought and interest, looking over the pattern of light lines on his skin. His finger traces them, and Arthur gets the ritual. He gets it.

So the next morning, when Eames sits there and traces the line down his plaid jacket, Arthur waits.

Whatever it takes to keep Eames certain that Arthur’s there.