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Title: Did You Have To Go To Jail?
Author:
sarahyyy
Rating: PG
Character/Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Word Count: 1718
Summary: The one in which Detective Arthur arrests Eames, the famed thief.
Disclaimer: I do not, in any way, own anything.
A/N: Tenth person to comment gets to prompt me for my next Arthur/Eames drabble! =D
-----------------------------
“Arthur!” Eames cries, really past caring that the heist he’d worked on for fourteen months was now in shambles or that he was being led out of the museum in cuffs, “Arthur, darling, please! You have to listen to me!”
Arthur stares stonily ahead, not turning to look at Eames because he knows that he would not be able to control himself if he does and he can’t lose control. He just can’t fucking lose it because it’s the only concrete thing he’s got left.
For the rest of the day, he keeps his cool, pointedly ignoring the pitying glances that Detective Inspector Cobb and Yusuf are giving him and shrugging the comforting hand Ariadne places on his shoulder with a smile. “I’m fine,” he reassures them.
It isn’t until when he closes the door of his apartment behind him that he collapses against the door and buries his head in his shaky hands. He can feel the clog in his throat but he doesn’t cry because it’s his own fault for being so stupid and crying isn’t going to make things better.
And when he attempts to sleep that night, he can’t because he is plagued with memories of how he places the cuffs on Eames’ hands and reads Eames his rights monotonously.
--
Arthur is in the middle of trying to figure out how the subject of a particular 17th century Chinese painting could possibly be an orchid —and also why the Cobb would think that anyone would want to steal it— when he hears a voice from behind him.
“Are you a connoisseur of arts?”
Arthur turns around to see a man —broad shoulders, atrocious shirt— standing behind him. “Not really,” he says as flippantly as he can, “Just looking around.”
“Eames,” the man offers, extending his arm to shake Arthur’s.
Arthur shakes his hand gingerly. “Arthur,” he says.
Eames smiles before he leans closer to murmur conspiratorially to him, “These never looked like orchids to me.”
Arthur brightens up at that comment and although he tries to suppress his thoughts, he thinks that maybe that is the moment he falls in love.
--
Eames looks like he hasn’t slept in two days.
Arthur is almost sure he looks the same. “You look horrible,” he says to Eames though, mostly because Eames is looking at him expectantly.
Eames smiles at him. “I’m in jail, darling, what’s your excuse?”
Arthur has had this all planned out. He has a goddamned speech planned out in his head. He wants Eames to know that he’s angry and that he hates him and that he should have known better than to have let himself get carried away but looking at Eames, all Arthur can manage is, “Why did you do it?”
Eames’ smile fades and his shoulders slump. “I’m sorry,” he says softly after a pregnant pause, “I never meant for anyone to get hurt, much less you.”
Arthur doesn’t say anything. He can’t think of anything to say.
“Arthur, darling,” Eames continues, “This whole thing between us, it started out as a job but then it became-”
“Something more,” Arthur finishes for him. He doesn’t look at Eames when he stands up and walks to the door. “You know what, Eames? I think that would have been easier to believe if you weren’t in handcuffs right now.”
--
“Hello, Arthur,” Eames calls just as Arthur walks out of the station.
Arthur is sure his heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t expected to see Eames again.
“Eames,” Arthur greets and tries not to wince at the bright orange paisley shirt Eames is wearing.
Eames grins. “You remember me.”
Arthur snorts a laugh. “It’s not everyday I meet someone with such…original sense of fashion.”
“Aha!” Eames says excitedly, “I see my plan to make myself unforgettable went incredibly well.”
Arthur shakes his head in amusement.
“Will you go out for dinner with me?” Eames asks, cutting to the chase.
Arthur knows he should really say no. He barely knows Eames and he still has work to do.
But the power of Eames’ hopeful smile is too much for Arthur to resist and he replies Eames with a question of his own, “Do you have a spare change of shirt that isn’t as blinding as the one you’re wearing now?”
Eames laughs and slings his arm around Arthur’s shoulders.
It really should feel uncomfortable but Arthur cannot help but to notice the pit of warmth in his stomach.
--
Arthur goes back to see Eames again the next day. He tells himself that it’s because he still has unanswered questions about the case and he tells himself that he cannot allow himself to be emotionally compromised by Eames.
“Why me?” Arthur asks just as Eames sits down.
Eames doesn’t even pretend that he doesn’t know what Arthur is talking about. Instead, he just answers Arthur’s question emotionlessly, “That painting you were looking at. I was supposed to steal it.”
Arthur’s jaw hardens. “But you didn’t,” he presses.
“I didn’t,” Eames confirms with a sad sigh.
Arthur’s tongue darts out to wet his lips. “You didn’t steal the painting. Why?”
Eames smiles sadly and Arthur can feel his heart crack.
“It reminded me of you.”
Arthur wants to laugh and Arthur wants to cry but he can’t so he clears his throat and looks away from Eames’ eyes. “It doesn’t answer my question. Why did you initiate contact with me?”
“I heard about you,” Eames answers softly, “I heard about the job you do and I wanted to see for myself.”
Arthur’s eyebrows draw together. “Explain.”
“Arthur, darling,” Eames murmurs and Arthur almost flinches at the term of endearment, “the police department isn’t letting you show your capabilities. You can’t watch over historical artifacts and art for the rest of your career. You’re meant for more than just a whole lifetime of preventing art thefts from happening. It’s not right. You mustn’t be afraid to dream a little bigger, darling.”
Arthur tenses and rises from his seat so quickly that the chair hits the floor with a loud bang. The air around them crackles and Arthur feels suffocated all of the sudden and he can’t believe that he trusted Eames enough to let him know everything about him.
“I trusted you,” Arthur hisses lowly.
“And I would still trust you with my life.”
Arthur leaves the room then, his head spinning and his vision blurry with tears.
--
“You’re in a good mood today,” Ariadne comments after Arthur doesn’t even wince when she dumps a shit load of paperwork on his table.
Arthur just smiles.
Ariadne’s eyes narrow as she observes Arthur. “You’re seeing someone,” she finally concludes.
Yusuf, who is just walking by Arthur’s desk, pauses and stares at Arthur for a long moment before he asks, “You’re seeing someone?”
Arthur shakes his head amusedly. “Don’t you people have murders to solve or robberies to crack?”
Yusuf grins and takes a sip of coffee from his mug. “I would really rather know if you’re seeing someone.”
Ariadne laughs but nods.
Arthur rolls his eyes. “Yes, I am seeing someone. I have been seeing someone since two weeks ago.”
“And she makes you happy?” Ariadne asks, eyebrows raised.
“He makes me happy,” Arthur corrects and thoroughly enjoys the way Yusuf chokes on his coffee.
--
Cobb tells Arthur the next day that Eames wants to see him and that Eames would not confess to any of his crimes unless he gets to see him. Cobb tells Arthur that he can refuse to but Arthur agrees to see Eames anyway.
“Arthur,” Eames says with a small smile, “you came.”
Arthur doesn’t say anything and Eames’ smile falls off his face quickly.
“I’m going to turn myself in,” Eames tells Arthur, “Detective Inspector Cobb says he can give me a deal if I turn my employer in too.” He leans back in his seat and Arthur knows Eames well enough to know that he is waiting for him to comment.
“That’s good,” Arthur says finally.
“I’ll be in for a good three years, at least,” Eames informs him.
Arthur swallows and then nods. His heart is pounding in his chest suddenly and he has no idea why. “Is that all you have to say?”
Eames leans forward and holds Arthur’s gaze. “Will you wait for me to come out, darling?”
--
It’s about one month into their relationship when Eames springs it on him one day.
“Arthur?” Eames calls from the bathroom, “There’s something that I need to tell you and I need you not to freak out, is that alright, darling?”
Arthur has a brief moment of panic and wonders if Eames has had enough of him and was finally going to break up with him. Then Eames’ head pops out from the bathroom and he sends Arthur a look of concern. “Are you alright, pet?”
Arthur smiles and his worries flit away. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he says, “You were saying?”
Eames comes out from the bathroom and the towel he wrapped around his waist dips just enough to reveal the dragon tattoo that runs down his hips.
“I sometimes worry that I’ll wake up in the middle of the night to realize that you were just a dream,” Eames confesses and Arthur’s breath catches in his throat. “I like this. I like us.”
Arthur’s smile is almost wobbly. “I do too.”
“And I fairly certain that I am in love with you,” Eames finishes.
Arthur replies by pulling Eames down to bed.
He doesn’t even mind when Eames gets the sheets wet.
--
“Will you wait for me, darling?” Eames repeats.
Arthur leans across the table to press a kiss on Eames’ lips fervently. He smiles into the kiss when he feels Eames’ stubble against his chin and the only thought he has in that moment is that he is going to miss doing this a lot and fuck, three years is an eternity.
“Is it alright if I take that as a yes?” Eames asks breathlessly, the hint of a smile already on his face, as he pulls away from Arthur.
Arthur shakes his head. “No, that is a ‘I can’t believe you asked’. This,” he tells Eames honestly before catching Eames’ lips with his own again, “is a yes.”
Author:
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
Rating: PG
Character/Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Word Count: 1718
Summary: The one in which Detective Arthur arrests Eames, the famed thief.
Disclaimer: I do not, in any way, own anything.
A/N: Tenth person to comment gets to prompt me for my next Arthur/Eames drabble! =D
-----------------------------
“Arthur!” Eames cries, really past caring that the heist he’d worked on for fourteen months was now in shambles or that he was being led out of the museum in cuffs, “Arthur, darling, please! You have to listen to me!”
Arthur stares stonily ahead, not turning to look at Eames because he knows that he would not be able to control himself if he does and he can’t lose control. He just can’t fucking lose it because it’s the only concrete thing he’s got left.
For the rest of the day, he keeps his cool, pointedly ignoring the pitying glances that Detective Inspector Cobb and Yusuf are giving him and shrugging the comforting hand Ariadne places on his shoulder with a smile. “I’m fine,” he reassures them.
It isn’t until when he closes the door of his apartment behind him that he collapses against the door and buries his head in his shaky hands. He can feel the clog in his throat but he doesn’t cry because it’s his own fault for being so stupid and crying isn’t going to make things better.
And when he attempts to sleep that night, he can’t because he is plagued with memories of how he places the cuffs on Eames’ hands and reads Eames his rights monotonously.
--
Arthur is in the middle of trying to figure out how the subject of a particular 17th century Chinese painting could possibly be an orchid —and also why the Cobb would think that anyone would want to steal it— when he hears a voice from behind him.
“Are you a connoisseur of arts?”
Arthur turns around to see a man —broad shoulders, atrocious shirt— standing behind him. “Not really,” he says as flippantly as he can, “Just looking around.”
“Eames,” the man offers, extending his arm to shake Arthur’s.
Arthur shakes his hand gingerly. “Arthur,” he says.
Eames smiles before he leans closer to murmur conspiratorially to him, “These never looked like orchids to me.”
Arthur brightens up at that comment and although he tries to suppress his thoughts, he thinks that maybe that is the moment he falls in love.
--
Eames looks like he hasn’t slept in two days.
Arthur is almost sure he looks the same. “You look horrible,” he says to Eames though, mostly because Eames is looking at him expectantly.
Eames smiles at him. “I’m in jail, darling, what’s your excuse?”
Arthur has had this all planned out. He has a goddamned speech planned out in his head. He wants Eames to know that he’s angry and that he hates him and that he should have known better than to have let himself get carried away but looking at Eames, all Arthur can manage is, “Why did you do it?”
Eames’ smile fades and his shoulders slump. “I’m sorry,” he says softly after a pregnant pause, “I never meant for anyone to get hurt, much less you.”
Arthur doesn’t say anything. He can’t think of anything to say.
“Arthur, darling,” Eames continues, “This whole thing between us, it started out as a job but then it became-”
“Something more,” Arthur finishes for him. He doesn’t look at Eames when he stands up and walks to the door. “You know what, Eames? I think that would have been easier to believe if you weren’t in handcuffs right now.”
--
“Hello, Arthur,” Eames calls just as Arthur walks out of the station.
Arthur is sure his heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t expected to see Eames again.
“Eames,” Arthur greets and tries not to wince at the bright orange paisley shirt Eames is wearing.
Eames grins. “You remember me.”
Arthur snorts a laugh. “It’s not everyday I meet someone with such…original sense of fashion.”
“Aha!” Eames says excitedly, “I see my plan to make myself unforgettable went incredibly well.”
Arthur shakes his head in amusement.
“Will you go out for dinner with me?” Eames asks, cutting to the chase.
Arthur knows he should really say no. He barely knows Eames and he still has work to do.
But the power of Eames’ hopeful smile is too much for Arthur to resist and he replies Eames with a question of his own, “Do you have a spare change of shirt that isn’t as blinding as the one you’re wearing now?”
Eames laughs and slings his arm around Arthur’s shoulders.
It really should feel uncomfortable but Arthur cannot help but to notice the pit of warmth in his stomach.
--
Arthur goes back to see Eames again the next day. He tells himself that it’s because he still has unanswered questions about the case and he tells himself that he cannot allow himself to be emotionally compromised by Eames.
“Why me?” Arthur asks just as Eames sits down.
Eames doesn’t even pretend that he doesn’t know what Arthur is talking about. Instead, he just answers Arthur’s question emotionlessly, “That painting you were looking at. I was supposed to steal it.”
Arthur’s jaw hardens. “But you didn’t,” he presses.
“I didn’t,” Eames confirms with a sad sigh.
Arthur’s tongue darts out to wet his lips. “You didn’t steal the painting. Why?”
Eames smiles sadly and Arthur can feel his heart crack.
“It reminded me of you.”
Arthur wants to laugh and Arthur wants to cry but he can’t so he clears his throat and looks away from Eames’ eyes. “It doesn’t answer my question. Why did you initiate contact with me?”
“I heard about you,” Eames answers softly, “I heard about the job you do and I wanted to see for myself.”
Arthur’s eyebrows draw together. “Explain.”
“Arthur, darling,” Eames murmurs and Arthur almost flinches at the term of endearment, “the police department isn’t letting you show your capabilities. You can’t watch over historical artifacts and art for the rest of your career. You’re meant for more than just a whole lifetime of preventing art thefts from happening. It’s not right. You mustn’t be afraid to dream a little bigger, darling.”
Arthur tenses and rises from his seat so quickly that the chair hits the floor with a loud bang. The air around them crackles and Arthur feels suffocated all of the sudden and he can’t believe that he trusted Eames enough to let him know everything about him.
“I trusted you,” Arthur hisses lowly.
“And I would still trust you with my life.”
Arthur leaves the room then, his head spinning and his vision blurry with tears.
--
“You’re in a good mood today,” Ariadne comments after Arthur doesn’t even wince when she dumps a shit load of paperwork on his table.
Arthur just smiles.
Ariadne’s eyes narrow as she observes Arthur. “You’re seeing someone,” she finally concludes.
Yusuf, who is just walking by Arthur’s desk, pauses and stares at Arthur for a long moment before he asks, “You’re seeing someone?”
Arthur shakes his head amusedly. “Don’t you people have murders to solve or robberies to crack?”
Yusuf grins and takes a sip of coffee from his mug. “I would really rather know if you’re seeing someone.”
Ariadne laughs but nods.
Arthur rolls his eyes. “Yes, I am seeing someone. I have been seeing someone since two weeks ago.”
“And she makes you happy?” Ariadne asks, eyebrows raised.
“He makes me happy,” Arthur corrects and thoroughly enjoys the way Yusuf chokes on his coffee.
--
Cobb tells Arthur the next day that Eames wants to see him and that Eames would not confess to any of his crimes unless he gets to see him. Cobb tells Arthur that he can refuse to but Arthur agrees to see Eames anyway.
“Arthur,” Eames says with a small smile, “you came.”
Arthur doesn’t say anything and Eames’ smile falls off his face quickly.
“I’m going to turn myself in,” Eames tells Arthur, “Detective Inspector Cobb says he can give me a deal if I turn my employer in too.” He leans back in his seat and Arthur knows Eames well enough to know that he is waiting for him to comment.
“That’s good,” Arthur says finally.
“I’ll be in for a good three years, at least,” Eames informs him.
Arthur swallows and then nods. His heart is pounding in his chest suddenly and he has no idea why. “Is that all you have to say?”
Eames leans forward and holds Arthur’s gaze. “Will you wait for me to come out, darling?”
--
It’s about one month into their relationship when Eames springs it on him one day.
“Arthur?” Eames calls from the bathroom, “There’s something that I need to tell you and I need you not to freak out, is that alright, darling?”
Arthur has a brief moment of panic and wonders if Eames has had enough of him and was finally going to break up with him. Then Eames’ head pops out from the bathroom and he sends Arthur a look of concern. “Are you alright, pet?”
Arthur smiles and his worries flit away. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he says, “You were saying?”
Eames comes out from the bathroom and the towel he wrapped around his waist dips just enough to reveal the dragon tattoo that runs down his hips.
“I sometimes worry that I’ll wake up in the middle of the night to realize that you were just a dream,” Eames confesses and Arthur’s breath catches in his throat. “I like this. I like us.”
Arthur’s smile is almost wobbly. “I do too.”
“And I fairly certain that I am in love with you,” Eames finishes.
Arthur replies by pulling Eames down to bed.
He doesn’t even mind when Eames gets the sheets wet.
--
“Will you wait for me, darling?” Eames repeats.
Arthur leans across the table to press a kiss on Eames’ lips fervently. He smiles into the kiss when he feels Eames’ stubble against his chin and the only thought he has in that moment is that he is going to miss doing this a lot and fuck, three years is an eternity.
“Is it alright if I take that as a yes?” Eames asks breathlessly, the hint of a smile already on his face, as he pulls away from Arthur.
Arthur shakes his head. “No, that is a ‘I can’t believe you asked’. This,” he tells Eames honestly before catching Eames’ lips with his own again, “is a yes.”