Author: Cherry Vanilla
Summary: Just your ordinary stake-out.
Props to foxxcub for beta and Lydia for drawing beautiful art for this silly ficlet <3333
“We should do it. Right here, right now.”
Arthur’s playing angry birds on his phone. He should be watching the hotel to see if the mark is ever going to emerge but they’ve been here four hours and he’s entitled to some downtime. “Do what, Mr. Eames?” he asks, absently.
“Shag, have sex, the lot of it.”
Arthur’s fingers stutter on the keyboard and he misses the damn pig. He stares at Eames, patiently, even though inside his heart is beating like a jack rabbit.
Never let ‘em see you sweat, he reminds himself.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Eames. We’re on a stake-out.”
Eames raises his eyebrow. “Is that your only refute then? If we were sitting here just having a chat, you’d be good to go, then?”
“A) When do we ever have ‘chats’? and B) No, I wouldn’t be ‘good to go.’ I’m not a co-ed.”
“Wouldn’t like you much if you were,” Eames grins toothily and Arthur rolls his eyes. “And I beg to differ; you and I chat all the time.”
Arthur taps his fingers on the steering wheel. “We talk about escape routes, building plans, forgery ideas. We do not talk about personal things.”
Abruptly, Eames reaches over and grazes the back of Arthur’s hand with his fingertips, quelling the tapping.
Arthur looks up, the breath punched out of him. Eames’ eyes are shining in the reflection of the streetlights.
“Then how do I know your mum’s name is Dorothy and your dad left you both when you were five? How do I know your favorite flavor of gum is spearmint and you hate the fruity shite? How do I know you were seventeen when you lost your virginity to a frat boy, and you’ve only slept with one woman in your life and only because you were drunk at the time?”
Eames pauses. His eyes soften and he covers Arthur’s hand completely, stroking over his thumb. “I’ve known you five bloody years, Arthur, and if you think I don’t you, you may as well be living in a dreamscape.”
Arthur exhales a shuddery breath and licks his suddenly dry lips. He meets Eames’ gaze, sees the challenge there. In an instant he’s reaching over, cupping his hand behind Eames’ head and dragging him forward into a kiss, open-mouthed and filthy.
Eames gasps into his mouth and slides his hand up Arthur’s arm, closing around his elbow. Arthur licks at the roof of Eames’ mouth, moaning when Eames sinks his teeth into his bottom lip.
“Sex, you said?” Arthur pants, far too breathlessly, as he breaks away.
“Bout time, wouldn’t you say?”
He doesn’t answer, opting to shed his jacket instead. He eyes Eames hungrily, taking in the noticeable bulge in his jeans.
“Just slide that damn seat back and don’t laugh if this is less graceful than you’ve seen me be; I’m climbing over.”
Eames is already laughing before Arthur says the words, but he instantly obeys. “As you wish, darling.”
Arthur soon discovers stake-outs are a lot more fun when you’re writhing in someone else’s lap, sucking on their tongue and running your hands along their outer thighs, hot and feverish. With Eames’ mouth on his throat and Eames’ hands down his pants, he decides they’ll need to tail this mark indefinitely.