The Parenting Meme
[ x ]  masterchemist 
[ x ]  littlspecificty  & preforging 
[ x ]  a_gold_bishop 

It is barely twenty two hundred hours in Spain, which means it's almost 5pm in New York.

Which means, Arthur will be buried under work for at least another hour-- if Eames is lucky. If Eames' luck is running true to course, Arthur could actually have his phone on silent and tucked away in his bag, content to power through whatever needless very important task he's set before himself.

The problem being, Eames is bored. Ten pm means the locals are just getting into the swing of things, the city lighting up and the sweet smell of coffee piercing the night, and Eames should, by all means, be out there with them, partying it up. Finding his mark in the midst of the crowd and scoping out what she normally goes for (classless and easy? snooty and withdrawn? native or exotic?) so their little band of thieves can make off with her daddy's bank account info with as little hassle as possible. As the daughter of a corporate giant, she was obviously followed by her fair share of muscle, but Eames wasn't really bothered by that, he was quick on his feet and fast with his lies. The thing is...

Alright. So Arthur hadn't called last night. Which is a silly thing to get worked up over- and he wasnt worked up over it, just thinking about it- but he's found his hand on his mobile more times than he can count today and he's wondering if calling wouldn't be such a bad idea.

Turning his mobile over in his hands, Eames considers the pros and cons of calling. On the one hand, Arthur might pick up, which could result in a pro (their having a conversation) but also a con (that conversation being about how Eames shouldn't call before 7pm because Arthur actually works yadda yadda). On the other, Arthur might be doing something important and Eames doesnt want to be a distraction, even though Arthur is obviously not paying his mind the same courtesy.

In the end, Eames settles for a happy medium, walking out to the balcony of his little rented home (he likes to live out of other people's homes more than hotels, he likes knowing the stove's been used and the paint's had thought put into it) and thumbing out a text to the point man.

so. at the risk of sounding like an outdated porn star... what r u wearing?

The direct continuation of this thread.


Drifting in that tenuous place between sleep and wakefulness, Eames does the first thing anyone as relaxed and comfortable as he is right now would do: tries to will his body back to sleep.

It’s a losing battle though, as is always the case once you’ve realized you’re making the climb into the waking world, and the ratio of sleep to wakefulness tips unsatisfactorily in the latter direction, leaving the impression of the former only in your limbs. A tease, if there ever was one.

Deciding being awake doesn’t necessarily mean he has to be up, Eames buries his head further into the lush down of the hotel pillow, drawing his knees up-

And cracking an eye open when they come into contact with another pair of shins. Arthur’s shins, to be specific.

It takes a moment, to remember why this is reality and that, if he wants to keep the image of the other (hair mussed, face lax and pressed into the pillow, arm bent under his pillow and breathing through his mouth) for just a little longer, he should probably reign in the urge to jump out of bed and find his totem. If it isn't reality, his subconscious is getting reprehensibly good at this.

Licking his lips, Eames can't help but smile. Its an irrational response to the situation as a whole; Arthur sleeping across from him, the knowledge that they'd basically played hookey to fuck and then sleep (and Eames has no idea where the clock is but he's not jostling the bed to try and find out how long they've been asleep for), the way Arthur'd opened his legs for him, so at ease with what he wanted from Eames, prepared like a bleeding boy scout with slick and rubbers-

Eyes going wide and cringing, Eames pulls the covers up just slightly to get a look at himself.

There's good news and bad news. The good news is: Eames does not have a rubber dried to his dick. Additionally, Arthur is just as pleasantly naked as he remembers- very good news indeed. Which means he is not in for an embarrassing walk to the bathroom and the painful process of soaking and tugging a crusty rubber off of his delicate bits. The bad news is, of course, if the rubber isn't on his dick, and he distinctly remembers falling asleep practically on top of the point man with it still on, then either Arthur took it off (which would be a bit embarrassing) or it is currently lost in the bed somewhere (which Arthur is not going to like, but is still kind of funny).

Well, Eames figures, letting the covers fall closed over them again, I'm sure there are worse things to lose in bed with a beautiful, naked man.

[ x ]   That isn't going to be easy.
[ x ]   * reprogramming figuring out his new mobile *
[ x ]   * trying to snap a photo *  Oi!
[ x ]   jely beans arthur? rly?
[ x ]   cant or wont? theres a diference
[ x ]   Precisely. So what is the problem?
[ x ]   {{Arthur's Plan}}
[ x ]