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sarahyyyTitle: Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sarahyyy
Rating: PG
Character/Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Word Count: 781
Summary: Eames knows that Arthur doesn’t mean to spoil his Christmas traditions. But that doesn’t mean that he can’t pout about it.
Disclaimer: I do not, in any way, own anything.
A/N: For this prompt of Eames reading to Arthur forcrazyeverafter and for this prompt for domestic fluff over at the ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
inception_kink.
----------------------------
i. Baking cookies
Eames has had the whole scenario planned out brilliantly in his head.
He and Arthur were going to bake cookies together.
Arthur, because he is ever the overachiever, would want to try out some impressive recipes that were just impossible for first timers to succeed with and they would overturn packets of flour, screw the recipe up along the way, make a complete mess out of the kitchen and even manage to laugh about it.
They would, after some time, finally, finally, somehow manage to put something into the oven and even though the both of them would know that whatever it is that they intended to bake wouldn’t turn out right, maybe they would still celebrate it with a kiss or two. Or a shag in the kitchen. Eames really isn’t fussy.
But then Arthur had to come home, bringing back enough cookies to feed a whole army.
“Ariadne and Yusuf are both apparently stress bakers,” Arthur informs him nonchalantly, ignoring Eames’ pout.
And Eames’ plan was foiled.
ii. Christmas Poems
“’Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house,” Eames begins, his voice a soft rumble.
Arthur snuggles closer to Eames where they were both nestling on the couch as his fingers begin to trace the outline of the tattoo on Eames’ arm.
Eames wraps his free arm around Arthur and continues happily, “Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.”
Arthur snorts.
“It’s not funny,” Eames defends indignantly.
“I’m sure it isn’t, darling,” Arthur says patronizingly, patting Eames’ hand lightly.
Eames pouts and sets his book of Christmas poems down. “Here I am, trying to read you a poem, and you’re making fun of my efforts. What a sad, sad life I live,” he says with a heartfelt sigh.
Arthur laughs. “If you’re so desperate to read me something, you might want to try East of Eden.”
Eames’ face scrunches up. “Is it Christmassy?”
Arthur’s look is enough of an answer for Eames.
iii Decorating Christmas Trees
“We are going to decorate a Christmas tree together,” Eames announces one morning. “There is nothing you can say to convince me otherwise, darling. I’m afraid this is something we must do,” he continues firmly.
Arthur stares at Eames for a long moment. “Alright,” he finally answers.
“Really?” Eames asks, but breaks out in a grin anyway.
Arthur nods, amused.
“No allergies to pine, no environmental ethic issue?” Eames presses on. He had imagined that convincing Arthur to do something as time consuming as decorating a Christmas tree would require much more effort.
“Why do I sense that you have already prepared your arguments for those?” Arthur smiles slightly and his dimples show.
Eames grins. “Because I did prepare my case,” he replies honestly.
“Then I’m afraid they will have to go to waste,” Arthur tells him.
Eames’ grin grows and he is about to suggest that they go pick up the Christmas tree that he’d ordered yesterday night together when Arthur’s phone vibrates, signally the arrival of a text message. Arthur reads the text and turns to look at Eames apologetically.
“It’s Cobb,” Arthur says, “I have to go out. There’s something I have to do.”
“Now?” Eames asks, stricken.
“Now,” Arthur confirms with a curt nod and Eames can only settle for pouting.
Eames ends up decorating his own Christmas tree.
+1 Mistletoe
When Arthur returns back to their flat, Eames is already in bed. He hasn’t slept, though; he’s been staring at the bedroom door for ages now, waiting for Arthur to come back.
“I see you decorated the tree yourself,” Arthur comments gently, leaning against the frame of the door.
Eames doesn’t reply, just closes his eyes and pointedly ignores Arthur.
“Are you mad at me?” Arthur sounds amused.
Eames hears Arthur’s footsteps and he feels the bed dip down with Arthur’s weight. Eames is acutely aware of Arthur’s fingers brush through his hair and he feels Arthur’s body heat seep into his own body. But still, he keeps his eyes closed as a silent protest of how Arthur has been treating him.
“Eames,” Arthur says and his voice is gentle and even, “I know I haven’t exactly been supportive of you trying to incorporate the Christmas spirit into our daily lives, but there are some Christmas traditions I like.”
Eames opens his eyes slowly when Arthur doesn’t continue, curious.
When he sees what Arthur is holding above them, he smiles. “Is that mistletoe, darling?”
Arthur nods but then scrunches his face when he looks up at the plant in his hand. “Did you know that the old English counterpart for the word mistletoe is mistiltan which derived from German words Mist, for dung and Tang for branch?”
Eames laughs. “Oh, darling, you know I adore you, but you really do know how to kill the mood.”
Arthur gives Eames a one shouldered shrug. “I was just enquiring if you knew that this tradition essentially asks for us to kiss under dung branches,” he tells Eames matter-of-factly.
Eames grips Arthur’s tie in his hands and tugs the point man down closer so that their lips were merely a hair’s breadth away.
“No, I don’t,” Eames answers finally, “and frankly, darling, I don’t give a damn.”
Author:
sarahyyy Rating: PG
Character/Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Word Count: 781
Summary: Eames knows that Arthur doesn’t mean to spoil his Christmas traditions. But that doesn’t mean that he can’t pout about it.
Disclaimer: I do not, in any way, own anything.
A/N: For this prompt of Eames reading to Arthur for
crazyeverafter and for this prompt for domestic fluff over at the inception_kink.----------------------------
i. Baking cookies
Eames has had the whole scenario planned out brilliantly in his head.
He and Arthur were going to bake cookies together.
Arthur, because he is ever the overachiever, would want to try out some impressive recipes that were just impossible for first timers to succeed with and they would overturn packets of flour, screw the recipe up along the way, make a complete mess out of the kitchen and even manage to laugh about it.
They would, after some time, finally, finally, somehow manage to put something into the oven and even though the both of them would know that whatever it is that they intended to bake wouldn’t turn out right, maybe they would still celebrate it with a kiss or two. Or a shag in the kitchen. Eames really isn’t fussy.
But then Arthur had to come home, bringing back enough cookies to feed a whole army.
“Ariadne and Yusuf are both apparently stress bakers,” Arthur informs him nonchalantly, ignoring Eames’ pout.
And Eames’ plan was foiled.
ii. Christmas Poems
“’Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house,” Eames begins, his voice a soft rumble.
Arthur snuggles closer to Eames where they were both nestling on the couch as his fingers begin to trace the outline of the tattoo on Eames’ arm.
Eames wraps his free arm around Arthur and continues happily, “Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.”
Arthur snorts.
“It’s not funny,” Eames defends indignantly.
“I’m sure it isn’t, darling,” Arthur says patronizingly, patting Eames’ hand lightly.
Eames pouts and sets his book of Christmas poems down. “Here I am, trying to read you a poem, and you’re making fun of my efforts. What a sad, sad life I live,” he says with a heartfelt sigh.
Arthur laughs. “If you’re so desperate to read me something, you might want to try East of Eden.”
Eames’ face scrunches up. “Is it Christmassy?”
Arthur’s look is enough of an answer for Eames.
iii Decorating Christmas Trees
“We are going to decorate a Christmas tree together,” Eames announces one morning. “There is nothing you can say to convince me otherwise, darling. I’m afraid this is something we must do,” he continues firmly.
Arthur stares at Eames for a long moment. “Alright,” he finally answers.
“Really?” Eames asks, but breaks out in a grin anyway.
Arthur nods, amused.
“No allergies to pine, no environmental ethic issue?” Eames presses on. He had imagined that convincing Arthur to do something as time consuming as decorating a Christmas tree would require much more effort.
“Why do I sense that you have already prepared your arguments for those?” Arthur smiles slightly and his dimples show.
Eames grins. “Because I did prepare my case,” he replies honestly.
“Then I’m afraid they will have to go to waste,” Arthur tells him.
Eames’ grin grows and he is about to suggest that they go pick up the Christmas tree that he’d ordered yesterday night together when Arthur’s phone vibrates, signally the arrival of a text message. Arthur reads the text and turns to look at Eames apologetically.
“It’s Cobb,” Arthur says, “I have to go out. There’s something I have to do.”
“Now?” Eames asks, stricken.
“Now,” Arthur confirms with a curt nod and Eames can only settle for pouting.
Eames ends up decorating his own Christmas tree.
+1 Mistletoe
When Arthur returns back to their flat, Eames is already in bed. He hasn’t slept, though; he’s been staring at the bedroom door for ages now, waiting for Arthur to come back.
“I see you decorated the tree yourself,” Arthur comments gently, leaning against the frame of the door.
Eames doesn’t reply, just closes his eyes and pointedly ignores Arthur.
“Are you mad at me?” Arthur sounds amused.
Eames hears Arthur’s footsteps and he feels the bed dip down with Arthur’s weight. Eames is acutely aware of Arthur’s fingers brush through his hair and he feels Arthur’s body heat seep into his own body. But still, he keeps his eyes closed as a silent protest of how Arthur has been treating him.
“Eames,” Arthur says and his voice is gentle and even, “I know I haven’t exactly been supportive of you trying to incorporate the Christmas spirit into our daily lives, but there are some Christmas traditions I like.”
Eames opens his eyes slowly when Arthur doesn’t continue, curious.
When he sees what Arthur is holding above them, he smiles. “Is that mistletoe, darling?”
Arthur nods but then scrunches his face when he looks up at the plant in his hand. “Did you know that the old English counterpart for the word mistletoe is mistiltan which derived from German words Mist, for dung and Tang for branch?”
Eames laughs. “Oh, darling, you know I adore you, but you really do know how to kill the mood.”
Arthur gives Eames a one shouldered shrug. “I was just enquiring if you knew that this tradition essentially asks for us to kiss under dung branches,” he tells Eames matter-of-factly.
Eames grips Arthur’s tie in his hands and tugs the point man down closer so that their lips were merely a hair’s breadth away.
“No, I don’t,” Eames answers finally, “and frankly, darling, I don’t give a damn.”
