Eames returns to him shortly with a glass of water, dropping to the couch beside him and offers the glass to Arthur.
"Yeah, I'm alone." For now.
He leans his elbow to the back of the couch and thinks about it for a moment. "Do you want me to fix you something to eat? Or do you want to loan clothes?"
He has things they need to discuss but he wants to make sure Arthur is comfortable first.
Honestly, Arthur could do with a soak, but he figures he should get this discussion out of the way first, so...
"You had something you wanted to talk about? Let's get that out of the way first," Arthur suggests, not yet reaching for the water and instead watching Eames.
Eames leans away to put the water onto the sofa table. Arthur can reach it from there, right?
He takes a moment to think about what he's going to say, his gaze at the glass on the table, jaw tightening and relaxing in time with his breathing. It's not an easy thing to say, is it?
Then he turns to look at Arthur, one knee on the couch, elbow on the back of it. There's quiet about him, the kind that usually Eames avoids like the plague because it tells anyone who would look at him that something has him rattled.
"I realised a while ago that this might not be obvious to you," he says quietly. "And I wanted to make sure there are no misconceptions about it between us. And I understand if our relationship will change because of it." Because they have been operating under the assumption of something else, Eames is the one who has sort of broken that agreement.
"Arthur, I've loved you for a quite some time now."
Whatever Arthur might've expected this conversation to be about, this most definitely wasn't it. It's so completely unexpected that he's left staring wide-eyed and even slack-jawed at the other man, aches and pains forgotten for the moment.
"... What?"
No, really, what!?
This is Eames. Eames. The man who's practically allergic to emotions, who prefers easy lays and a fun time, ready to pack up and leave whenever...
Eames simply stares at him, his eyes narrowing a little in comparison.
He said his piece.
"You heard me," he says and then relaxes a little, shifting to sit properly with his back against the couch. His heart is hammering in his chest for some reason, pulse ticking against his neck wildly.
"Make of it what you will, but it's the truth." There's no reason for him to lie about it. It's awkward enough to be true, every bloody word of it.
"Wait just a second here," Arthur starts, sitting up from the couch and twisting so they're facing each other, frown clear on his face. "Since when? You don't- Last I checked, you're allergic to emotional attachment."
And then, because they're in Duplicity, he adds, "What about Gerard?"
You'd have to be blind and deaf not to see how much the young man feels for Eames.
... All that aside, Arthur's own pulse has picked up wildly fast, heart in his throat as he stares at Eames with a tangled snarl of emotions muddying his mind. Confusion, shock, wariness... and even more hope than he might be comfortable admitting to.
"Am I?" Eames asks, whipping a look at Arthur that says he probably should rethink that statement. Then the intensity of it breaks down as he looks at Arthur, something a lot softer entering that gaze, fonder. "What do you want me to say? I never considered it because it seemed to so clear that you were holding on some feelings for Cobb. I figured that I was mostly a poor replacement. But... I've had some time to think in the past two months that I've spent here without you."
He turns to look at the water glass again, brows furrowing. "That's the reason why everything has been quite difficult for a while. The ghost ship, Arthur, was this place playing on my emotions and while that wasn't me, it still got a hold of me, mostly because of the depth of the emotion that is involved with you. So... here's the truth of it. I've wanted you for myself for a long while. Before we came here."
His mouth tightens to a line when he thinks about the second question. About Gerard. And then he looks at Arthur, shaking his head. "We'll talk about Gerard later. This is about you and me."
Eames rolls his eyes and gives Arthur a long hard look.
"You left every time he called. You would do pretty much anything Dom Cobb would think of to ask you." Even climb out of bed with Eames to do his bidding.
And then he realises what Arthur is saying and his frown softens a little, something questioning entering the look in his eyes.
"No, I'm definitely not," Arthur retorts, even grimacing a little at the thought. "He's a friend and needed a lot of help- wait, so you thought I was chasing Cobb because I was romantically attracted to him!?"
The thought is honestly quite ludicrous.
And then, understanding dawns across Arthur's features. "... Is that why you were always so pissy if I checked in on you after leaving? Because I'd go to help Cobb, and you thought it was because of that?"
This comes with a tightening of Eames' jaw and he actually springs up to his feet and aims for the bottle of scotch he has on a side table with a few glasses, pouring himself a drink.
"Get in line, half the city's gone through me at this point," he snaps right back. "So you thought I was hooking up with you for what? Pity sex? To pretend you're Cobb?"
"I don't know," Eames bites back. "I don't know why you were hooking up with me. I figured it was for sex. You seemed to enjoy that quite a bit. Nothing pitiful about that."
Arthur's left staring at Eames with something close to dumbfounded stupor. Someone out there must surely be appreciating the miracle of Arthur being at a loss for words, for once.
"... You're an idiot, you know that?" he manages at last, shaking his head with an exasperated huff, just a touch insulted by the insinuation that Arthur was just after sex. "Yeah, the sex was great. But I didn't just stick around because of your dick. When you weren't being a jerk, you were actually fun to be around."
And maybe there were the beginnings of deeper feelings happening, but with Eames' constant hot and cold moments (now understood to be due to Cobb), Arthur had ignored them completely. That way lay danger for sure.
Eames downs the drink with one go, hand splayed on top of the table as he takes a moment press the back of his hand to his mouth and think. Or try to at least. Everything in him wants to dismiss what Arthur said just now but he can't.
He draws in a breath, clonking the glass down and turns around, staring at Arthur.
"So, you were attracted to me not just because of my dick," Eames says slowly. "I am an idiot, I know. But apparently I'm an idiot who you like."
There's something thoughtful and quiet in his gaze as he regards Arthur across the room.
"And now?" he finally asks, head tilting to the side just a little. "How do you feel now?"
"Now, I..." he falters, looking a touch lost as he stares back at Eames.
How does he feel, now?
He's pretty sure they'd been headed fast towards something deeper, before the drowning incident, either thanks to Duplicity's influence or just... them spending so much time together.
But there's also the matter of Gerard, the broken trust, Duplicity repeatedly fucking them over...
"... I don't know," he finishes at last, quieter than before and dropping his gaze.
He hadn't expected anything more after all. It makes his heart shrink because it had a moment to hope earlier but now it's back to where he started.
He leans back against the table and then ventures quietly: "So, I will offer you a contract again. Take it or not, it's yours whenever you want it. I know this will change things."
There's an exhausted, humorless snort at that, Arthur absently reaching for the water to just have something to occupy his hands. Eames isn't the only one feeling something painful happening in his chest, but in Arthur's case, it's also a knot of confused emotions balling tighter and tighter.
"What kinda asshole would I be to get in a contract with you for convenience, when you..." he falters on trying to say the forbidden word, and smooths it over with, "... have strong feelings about me."
But at the same time, the thought of contracting with someone else feels so wrong. Even moreso now that Eames has dropped this bomb on him.
Eames lets out a drawn out sigh, watching Arthur over his arms folded over his chest.
"I know it's going to change something, but let me just say that I want a contract with you." There's something very determined and steady in the way he says it. "I understand that you might not feel the same given our different viewpoints of each other but you needn't feel like you're using me. I can take care of myself, Arthur, and I'm offering this contract out of my own pure selfish desire, not out of misguided sense of responsibility."
He shrugs mildly. "To tell you the truth, it bothered me a little towards the end that we made one out of convenience. I'm not saying that I'm buying into this idea that Duplicity is selling about dominants and submissives, but a part of it wasn't so repulsive in the end, and I doubt we would have tried the things we did without it. So, a part of me is grateful for it, while the other part is angry that you need to lean on a dominant just because they thought to tattoo your throat with that line."
There is a sense of tiredness in Eames' tone of voice, perhaps a touch of bitterness. But he feels much calmer than he has for months. It's not the first time in his life that his feelings of love and adoration aren't returned fully, it's been more of a rule than an exception, it would only make sense this would follow that same pattern.
"Think about it," he says finally, turning around to pour himself another drink. "I'm not trying to pressure you into something. It's your own decision."
Eames' shoulders tighten and he pauses with a hand on the neck of the bottle, holding it like a hammer for a moment, feeling the weight of it and loving fondly the idea of crashing it to the skull of whoever would be dumb enough to contract with Arthur.
Then he pours himself a drink and downs it before answering hoarsely: "No, but I don't get a say in that. You don't owe that kind of responsibility to me either."
The tension in the man's frame is telling even if Eames wouldn't say it out loud.
Arthur stares at his back for a long moment, letting Eames have his drink in silence, his mind still going a hundred miles a second at this point. Then he finally clears his throat and looks away again.
"Think I could borrow your bathroom and some clothes?"
Eames tilts his head towards Arthur, the line of his cheek visible, the sharp angle of his nose, but he doesn't look back at him, even if it might seem like he might.
"Of course," he says. "Clothes are in the bedroom, and there are fresh towels in the bathroom."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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"Yeah, I'm alone." For now.
He leans his elbow to the back of the couch and thinks about it for a moment. "Do you want me to fix you something to eat? Or do you want to loan clothes?"
He has things they need to discuss but he wants to make sure Arthur is comfortable first.
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Honestly, Arthur could do with a soak, but he figures he should get this discussion out of the way first, so...
"You had something you wanted to talk about? Let's get that out of the way first," Arthur suggests, not yet reaching for the water and instead watching Eames.
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He takes a moment to think about what he's going to say, his gaze at the glass on the table, jaw tightening and relaxing in time with his breathing. It's not an easy thing to say, is it?
Then he turns to look at Arthur, one knee on the couch, elbow on the back of it. There's quiet about him, the kind that usually Eames avoids like the plague because it tells anyone who would look at him that something has him rattled.
"I realised a while ago that this might not be obvious to you," he says quietly. "And I wanted to make sure there are no misconceptions about it between us. And I understand if our relationship will change because of it." Because they have been operating under the assumption of something else, Eames is the one who has sort of broken that agreement.
"Arthur, I've loved you for a quite some time now."
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Whatever Arthur might've expected this conversation to be about, this most definitely wasn't it. It's so completely unexpected that he's left staring wide-eyed and even slack-jawed at the other man, aches and pains forgotten for the moment.
"... What?"
No, really, what!?
This is Eames. Eames. The man who's practically allergic to emotions, who prefers easy lays and a fun time, ready to pack up and leave whenever...
no subject
He said his piece.
"You heard me," he says and then relaxes a little, shifting to sit properly with his back against the couch. His heart is hammering in his chest for some reason, pulse ticking against his neck wildly.
"Make of it what you will, but it's the truth." There's no reason for him to lie about it. It's awkward enough to be true, every bloody word of it.
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"Wait just a second here," Arthur starts, sitting up from the couch and twisting so they're facing each other, frown clear on his face. "Since when? You don't- Last I checked, you're allergic to emotional attachment."
And then, because they're in Duplicity, he adds, "What about Gerard?"
You'd have to be blind and deaf not to see how much the young man feels for Eames.
... All that aside, Arthur's own pulse has picked up wildly fast, heart in his throat as he stares at Eames with a tangled snarl of emotions muddying his mind. Confusion, shock, wariness... and even more hope than he might be comfortable admitting to.
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He turns to look at the water glass again, brows furrowing. "That's the reason why everything has been quite difficult for a while. The ghost ship, Arthur, was this place playing on my emotions and while that wasn't me, it still got a hold of me, mostly because of the depth of the emotion that is involved with you. So... here's the truth of it. I've wanted you for myself for a long while. Before we came here."
His mouth tightens to a line when he thinks about the second question. About Gerard. And then he looks at Arthur, shaking his head. "We'll talk about Gerard later. This is about you and me."
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And just like that, Arthur's more confused than ever before.
"... You thought I'm hung up on Cobb?"
You can't be serious.
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"You left every time he called. You would do pretty much anything Dom Cobb would think of to ask you." Even climb out of bed with Eames to do his bidding.
And then he realises what Arthur is saying and his frown softens a little, something questioning entering the look in his eyes.
"Are you not hung up on Cobb?"
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"No, I'm definitely not," Arthur retorts, even grimacing a little at the thought. "He's a friend and needed a lot of help- wait, so you thought I was chasing Cobb because I was romantically attracted to him!?"
The thought is honestly quite ludicrous.
And then, understanding dawns across Arthur's features. "... Is that why you were always so pissy if I checked in on you after leaving? Because I'd go to help Cobb, and you thought it was because of that?"
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If Arthur hadn't been pining after Cobb after all. And he hadn't realised just how the thought affected Eames. Then...
He finds it hard to complete that thought.
"I was wrong, apparently."
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"No shit, Sherlock."
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This comes with a tightening of Eames' jaw and he actually springs up to his feet and aims for the bottle of scotch he has on a side table with a few glasses, pouring himself a drink.
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"Get in line, half the city's gone through me at this point," he snaps right back. "So you thought I was hooking up with you for what? Pity sex? To pretend you're Cobb?"
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A healthy serving of scotch goes into his glass.
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Arthur's left staring at Eames with something close to dumbfounded stupor. Someone out there must surely be appreciating the miracle of Arthur being at a loss for words, for once.
"... You're an idiot, you know that?" he manages at last, shaking his head with an exasperated huff, just a touch insulted by the insinuation that Arthur was just after sex. "Yeah, the sex was great. But I didn't just stick around because of your dick. When you weren't being a jerk, you were actually fun to be around."
And maybe there were the beginnings of deeper feelings happening, but with Eames' constant hot and cold moments (now understood to be due to Cobb), Arthur had ignored them completely. That way lay danger for sure.
Now... he's not sure.
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He draws in a breath, clonking the glass down and turns around, staring at Arthur.
"So, you were attracted to me not just because of my dick," Eames says slowly. "I am an idiot, I know. But apparently I'm an idiot who you like."
There's something thoughtful and quiet in his gaze as he regards Arthur across the room.
"And now?" he finally asks, head tilting to the side just a little. "How do you feel now?"
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"Now, I..." he falters, looking a touch lost as he stares back at Eames.
How does he feel, now?
He's pretty sure they'd been headed fast towards something deeper, before the drowning incident, either thanks to Duplicity's influence or just... them spending so much time together.
But there's also the matter of Gerard, the broken trust, Duplicity repeatedly fucking them over...
"... I don't know," he finishes at last, quieter than before and dropping his gaze.
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He hadn't expected anything more after all. It makes his heart shrink because it had a moment to hope earlier but now it's back to where he started.
He leans back against the table and then ventures quietly: "So, I will offer you a contract again. Take it or not, it's yours whenever you want it. I know this will change things."
He doesn't expect Arthur to take it.
"You should find one quickly, in any case."
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There's an exhausted, humorless snort at that, Arthur absently reaching for the water to just have something to occupy his hands. Eames isn't the only one feeling something painful happening in his chest, but in Arthur's case, it's also a knot of confused emotions balling tighter and tighter.
"What kinda asshole would I be to get in a contract with you for convenience, when you..." he falters on trying to say the forbidden word, and smooths it over with, "... have strong feelings about me."
But at the same time, the thought of contracting with someone else feels so wrong. Even moreso now that Eames has dropped this bomb on him.
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"I know it's going to change something, but let me just say that I want a contract with you." There's something very determined and steady in the way he says it. "I understand that you might not feel the same given our different viewpoints of each other but you needn't feel like you're using me. I can take care of myself, Arthur, and I'm offering this contract out of my own pure selfish desire, not out of misguided sense of responsibility."
He shrugs mildly. "To tell you the truth, it bothered me a little towards the end that we made one out of convenience. I'm not saying that I'm buying into this idea that Duplicity is selling about dominants and submissives, but a part of it wasn't so repulsive in the end, and I doubt we would have tried the things we did without it. So, a part of me is grateful for it, while the other part is angry that you need to lean on a dominant just because they thought to tattoo your throat with that line."
There is a sense of tiredness in Eames' tone of voice, perhaps a touch of bitterness. But he feels much calmer than he has for months. It's not the first time in his life that his feelings of love and adoration aren't returned fully, it's been more of a rule than an exception, it would only make sense this would follow that same pattern.
"Think about it," he says finally, turning around to pour himself another drink. "I'm not trying to pressure you into something. It's your own decision."
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Arthur can't help but glance over at Eames as the man makes his case, that brittleness in Eames' voice echoing that in his chest.
"And you'd be okay with that?" he asks, low and pointed. "If I went off to contract with someone else?"
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Then he pours himself a drink and downs it before answering hoarsely: "No, but I don't get a say in that. You don't owe that kind of responsibility to me either."
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The tension in the man's frame is telling even if Eames wouldn't say it out loud.
Arthur stares at his back for a long moment, letting Eames have his drink in silence, his mind still going a hundred miles a second at this point. Then he finally clears his throat and looks away again.
"Think I could borrow your bathroom and some clothes?"
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"Of course," he says. "Clothes are in the bedroom, and there are fresh towels in the bathroom."
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