Arthur first realizes he’s in love with Eames when they’re in an airport in Dubai. It’s their second post Fischer job together and Eames is sitting in the lounge, sipping on an iced tea. He looks calm, at peace, completely ordinary; except he’s not. And Arthur’s had him in his bed for the past few months and no one knows – no one knows the Eames he sees at night, the Eames who spreads out on his back for Arthur and lets Arthur climb on top of him; lets Arthur blow him and trace the planes of his body. No one knows that Eames spreads his legs willingly and no one knows Eames moaned Arthur’s name just this morning, before they left for the airport in separate taxis.
This Eames sits seemingly unaware of his surroundings but Arthur knows he’s anything but. Still, it’s easy to believe, watching him from afar, that he really is that careless – that he’s just a man shuffling his newspaper and casually drinking from his cup, not cataloging the occupants of the airport or making sure he wasn’t followed.
Arthur’s heart pounds in his chest as he takes a few steps forward and when he sits down, only Eames’ jaw twitches, and barely at that.
“Come home with me,” Arthur says, willing his voice to remain steady. E
ames’ own face betrays nothing. “Do you always proposition strange men in aeroplane hangers?”
“About once a month,” Arthur deadpans.
Eames turns to him and flashes a brilliant smile that could be considered fake if his eyes weren’t shining and crinkled around the edges.
“I’d love to.”
Arthur feels his chest tighten even further. He never expected to fall in love at an airport in Dubai but he figures there are worse places.