Word count: 2,854
Warnings: language, dirtiness, nakedness
Summary: Eames accidentally finds out that Arthur sleeps in the nude.
The Bare Necessities
Eames was seriously reconsidering the whole 'staying in a hotel' thing.
When Cobb had suggested that he and Arthur just crash at his place for a couple of days on the way to their next job, Eames had jumped at the chance for free room and board. Arthur had opened his mouth to decline, but Eames had insisted, and Arthur had shrugged and said, "Suit yourself."
Eames hadn't realized that Cobb only had one guest room. He also didn't realize that Arthur would call dibs on that one guest room as soon as they got there and defend it like a warrior and would die before sacrificing the down-feather bed to Eames. The forger had ended up on the couch and had thus been woken up at seven a.m. sharp when the children had thundered down the stairs for breakfast. It wouldn't have been so bad if Eames hadn't been up until three researching his forgery (Eames was much more professional than Arthur gave him credit for), but he had been up that late, and now he was tired, and when he was tired he was grumpy, and when he was grumpy he was more intent on getting revenge on those who made him grumpy to start with.
No, the kids hadn't caused it.
This was Arthur's fault.
Arthur, who was still asleep at eleven in the afternoon, all snuggly and cozy in the big guest bed... Arthur who always slept in on his time off until some ungodly late hour in the day as if to spite him, Arthur who knew that this would happen, had only played hesitant because he wanted Eames to insist, wanted Eames to end up sleeping on the couch, wrapped in a blanket that was too short, wide awake because of the sounds of stomping and shouting.
If Eames had to break the door in with his shoulder, he was going to get into that room and toss Arthur out of it (Hopefully though, it would require something a bit less loud, because the surprise was so much more worth it).
By the time he'd made the decision and made the climb upstairs, he'd found that there was no need to bust the door down. Cobb's doors were alarmingly easy to pick the locks on (he'd have to mention that to him later, but for now he would use it to advantage). He picked said lock with a hairpin he'd sneaked out of the kids' bathroom and let himself inside.
Arthur was curled up under the many blankets, dark hair sprawled out in a halo across the pillow. He was breathing softly, hands loosely clenched up next to his face. Momentarily Eames forgot about his revenge, taking a bit of time to admire his pretty profile that looked so much softer in sleep.
Wait, no—he couldn't let himself be distracted by a pretty face. Getting distracted by pretty faces always led to trouble. He knew that much.
"Oh, Arthur…" Eames sing-songed, leaning over him.
"Mmnnphh…" Arthur mumbled, rolling onto his back but stubbornly not waking up.
Arthur's head fell to the side, and he let out a small snore, but other than that he gave no response. Bastard.
"Rise and shine, darling!" Eames cried, grabbing hold of the comforter and sheets and whisking them off of the bed in one swooping motion.
…only to realize that Arthur was stark naked.
…and he seemed to become aware of it at the same time as Eames.
"What the fuck?" Arthur shouted, and a rapid blush spread across his ears, his cheeks, and down his chest as he scrambled for something to cover himself with before having to settle with a pillow. "Jesus—Christ, what are you doing in here? Fuck!"
"I'm not Jesus Christ," Eames responded and just stared.
It didn't matter that Arthur had covered himself. Eames had seen it.
Eames had seen it.
"Eames," Arthur said in exasperation, still red-faced. "What the f—get out!"
Arthur snorted in agitation, scooting awkwardly across the bed. "Very observant of you—could you maybe—"
Eames wasn't paying attention. Arthur had leaned over the end of the bed to grab for the comforter, probably so he could cover himself more effectively, promptly forgetting that his bare arse was viewable to anyone in the immediate vicinity of it (i.e. Eames)…
My, my, what an arse, Eames couldn't help but think.
Arthur looked up, apparently expecting an answer to a question Eames hadn't even heard, and then he gasped when he realized what Eames was looking at, his blush growing deeper as he sat back on his haunches to try and tuck it under his legs, but he lost his balance and went sprawling onto his back. "Give me the comforter! Fuck!"
"There are children in the house, so don't you think you should watch your language?" Eames reminded (as if he cared—he'd been cursing since he was old enough to talk), picking up the comforter but not handing it over. "Why are you starkers?"
"I didn't expect anyone to come walking in on me! That's why I locked the goddamned door! And don't preach at me for my fucking language!"
Eames was distracted by staring at the lean, toned muscles of Arthur's chest and stomach, the light freckles and moles on milky skin, the trail of dark hair from his navel down to below the pillow.
"Eames!" Arthur shouted, knocking him out of his haze.
"Hm?" Eames asked, blinking.
"Why the fuck did you break into my room?"
Well, damn, Eames had forgotten.
Oh. Oh, yeah.
"I want your bed!" Eames exclaimed dumbly.
Arthur leveled him with a glare. "What," he said flatly.
"I got woken up at seven o' clock this morning because you took the guest room, and I know you did it on purpose," Eames said, but his voice was quickly losing its sternness as he lost his focus. Arthur had sat back on his arms, giving his body a very attractive arch, revealing a bit more of that trail of hair. He seemed to have forgotten that all he had was a pillow to cover him in his aggravation.
"I did no such thing."
"You um…" Eames licked his lips, blinking a few times as if he could bewitch Arthur's clothes onto him (he didn't seem to be an Elizabeth Montgomery by any means). "You wouldn't let me have the guest room because you knew that the Cobblets would… uh… sorry, what was I saying?"
"Give me the comforter, Eames," Arthur said, voice strained with frustration and embarrassment. "I'll get dressed, and then I'll tell you how stupid you… Eames…"
Eames dropped it on the floor, deciding that he could at least exact some sort of revenge. He was not sure what that revenge was, but Arthur did seem terribly embarrassed by how much Eames was enjoying the view.
"You're an asshole," Arthur said, and his voice was quickly growing more ragged as his nakedness became more and more obvious to himself. Eames couldn't seem to take his eyes off of him.
"Why are you naked exactly?" Eames asked as Arthur got to his feet to just go find some clothes to wear, but there wasn't really any way he could get around Eames to his suitcase and cover both his arse and his front bits.
"I sleep naked," Arthur grumbled, suddenly stuck, clutching the pillow in front of him with both hands.
"I hope I didn't kill your morning wood," Eames said with a smirk, if only to see the redness on Arthur's body deepen to new levels. He wasn't sure what answer Arthur was giving off with that blush. "Oh, no need to be embarrassed. It's a perfectly natural—"
"I had the Talk in high school, Eames. I don't need it from you. Get out."
"I refuse on the fact that we're in the free country of America, and that I have a right to be here."
"You're on private property—you can't just do whatever you want."
"Fine," Eames said, smile widening. "Go get Cobb. Tell him how I'm misbehaving. Just don't show your pecker to the children by mistake."
Arthur's eyes widened, and his mouth formed into a thin line, and his nostrils flared… and then he went to grab at Eames's shirt lapels and slam him against the wall, only afterwards realizing he'd dropped the pillow in the process, giving Eames an eyeful.
Arthur's grip loosened on Eames's shirt but didn't let go, and he wasn't even looking up at Eames so much as looking down at himself in shock over his own stupidity. Eames's eyes were looking in the same direction though, so it's not like it mattered.
"You're excited," Eames remarked.
Arthur snatched up the comforter and wrapped himself up in it like a burrito and then buried his face in the mattress, humiliated. "Just leave…" he whined, all the fight dragged out of him.
Eames pursed his lips.
He reached out and gently ran a finger along Arthur's exposed calf muscle and watched as the leg jerked.
…and Eames understood.
Arthur had only been half hard when he'd come in, and now he was standing at attention, and all Eames could think was, "Do you get off on me watching you?"
"Of course not…" Arthur hissed, but there was something wrecked about his voice that led Eames to believe otherwise. "Don't touch me."
"It's just your leg," Eames said, gently pressing his palm against the muscle. "An innocent little touch like that doesn't mean anything."
"Get out, please!" Arthur said, jerking his leg away and curling up in a little ball, looking at Eames with wide, heated eyes.
"You mean that?" Eames asked, walking his fingers up the bottom of his foot, his qualms with Arthur long forgotten. Eames had always been good at finding other ways to entertain himself and never stayed angry for long.
Arthur rolled away from Eames, leaving behind a trail of the comforter. "That's not funny, Eames."
"I'm terribly sorry for staring," Eames offered, crawling onto the bed and leaning over him, wrapping his fingers over Arthur's bared shoulder. "You're just so delectable, I couldn't resist."
"Stop fucking with me."
"I haven't even begun to fuck with you," Eames chuckled. "I can if you want me to though."
Arthur didn't respond to that, didn't move.
"I was just teasing," Eames said awkwardly, thinking perhaps he'd really and truly gone too far. He never had been good at testing his limits.
Arthur sat up on his knees, the blanket sliding down his shoulders, and Eames got distracted by the curve of his neck, the slight wrinkle when Arthur looked sheepishly over his shoulder at him. "You're serious," Arthur told him. "You weren't teasing at all."
Eames blinked, expecting a harsh tongue lashing.
Arthur shucked off the blanket and said, "Lock the door," and then immediately crawled off the bed and started rummaging through his bags.
Eames's eyebrows shot up on his forehead, but he did as he was told, and by then Arthur had climbed back onto the bed with lube and a condom.
Eames started unbuttoning his shirt and asked, "You're not intending to get me all hot and bothered and leave me hanging, are you?"
"I don't see how I'd get any satisfaction out of that," Arthur said and… fuck, Arthur was pushing his fingers inside of himself, the corner of his tongue sticking out of his mouth in concentration. "Take your time though, I can do this all day," he said sarcastically.
"You cheeky bastard," Eames said, undoing his belt.
He couldn't believe this was happening, so he still took a second to check his totem. After all, Arthur was an attractive guy, and Eames had certainly had a few dirty dreams about him, but he'd never expected this. Sure, they'd flirted on occasion, and Eames had sworn a few times Arthur had given him the eyes, and maybe once or twice Arthur might have been propositioning him, but most of the time Eames only thought of that later and assumed maybe he was just reading too much into offers for dinner or coffee.
Well, shit, this could have happened earlier?
"Let me help you with that," Eames said, letting his clothes pile at his feet and sidling up next to him, sliding his hand up the inside of his thigh. Arthur pulled his fingers out with a shaky exhale, and it was entirely too attractive. Eames didn't leave Arthur feeling empty for long, slicking up his own fingers and sliding them inside. His fingers were thicker and blunter than Arthur's, and if the sound Arthur made was any indication, it burned a bit more.
Eames chuckled low in his throat and leaned over him, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. "Do you need more lube?"
"No—it—it's fine…" Arthur said, voice breaking a little, already having broken out in a sweat. "Jesus…" he gasped. "It took you long enough to get the hint…"
"Sometimes you have to be blunt with me, darling. For example, you could have told me that you slept starkers, or at least given me more of a show when I found out."
Arthur pushed back onto Eames's fingers, groaning, and said, "I would have if you'd given me some time for the shock to wear off. I didn't exactly expect you, what with the door being locked."
"You should have invited me up," Eames breathed against the shell of his ear. "Then, we both would have gotten a good night's sleep."
Arthur glanced over his shoulder, smirking, and asked, "Do you really believe that?"
"No," Eames said, and captured his mouth in a sloppy kiss.
He pulled his fingers free and shoved Arthur down onto his back, never breaking the kiss, trailing his hand down his chest and stomach, and Arthur was mewling.
Eames sat back, panting, sliding the condom on. "So, all of this time you've been trying to bag me, have you?"
Arthur replied by hooking his leg up onto Eames's shoulder. "No, seriously, talk. It's not like we have anything better to do."
"All right, all right, I get it," Eames said. "You're so impatient."
Eames slicked himself up and pressed up against his entrance. "Next time you want to fuck, all you have to do is ask."
He pushed inside, just passing the first ring of muscle, and Arthur practically growled.
Eames started a slow rhythm, folding Arthur practically in half underneath him, and Arthur licked and kissed at Eames's mouth, falling apart for him as if it was the most natural thing he'd ever done. "My, you are beautiful," Eames grunted, thrusting his hips forward, and Arthur moaned. Eames wrapped a hand around Arthur and started jerking him off, and Arthur started crying out, muffling his sounds by biting down on a knuckle.
Eames snapped his hips a few more time, dragging the head of his prick across Arthur's prostate, and watched as Arthur came with a cry, body tensing all over and a reddish-purple flush spreading all the way down his frame. Eames was so turned on by it that he came too with a rumbling groan.
After his orgasm passed, Eames slumped down next to Arthur in the bed, panting and unable to stop grinning in post-coital bliss. "Do you really always sleep in the nude, or was this really just an elaborate attempt to woo me? Come on, tell me this was all part of your plan."
"It really wasn't," Arthur said, grinning. "I always sleep this way. I hate the way my clothes catch on me when I sleep. It's uncomfortable."
"Well, I like it," Eames decided. "Means we can get right down to business."
"Surely you wouldn't mind unwrapping me like a present once in a while, right?"
"True. I do think I'd quite like that."
Arthur laughed a little, nuzzling his face into Eames's neck. Eames curled an arm around his back and tugged him as close as he could. "You were a sight, you know? All flustered? It was quite possibly the second most attractive thing I've ever seen."
"And the first?"
"Your come face."
Just then, there was a distant thundering sound from down the hall, and then there was a banging on the door. "Uncle Arthur!" Phillipa called through the door. "Daddy wants to know if you're awake yet!"
"Yeah, I'm up! I'm up!" Arthur assured her, laughter in his voice. "I'll be down in a few minutes."
The noise quieted as she retreated, and Arthur sat up, stretching his back muscles, making a small surprised sound when Eames kissed him between the shoulders, sighing back into it as Eames pressed his mouth gently all the way up his spine.
"So," Arthur said. "You're not going to throw me out, are you?"
"Wouldn't dream of it, darling."
…and Eames would have said that he got a long and perfect night's sleep that night, but, well… that wasn't exactly true.
He and Arthur did sleep pretty well into the morning though.
quixoticpulse only asked for something happy. I hope this qualifies. I'm really not sure. Hurr.