Chapter Text
The Snowman is running on WGBH; Eames and Arthur are watching it.
Why, exactly, Eames isn’t sure.
Yusuf and Ariande have long since departed. Eames should too, should catch his T at Haymarket. Instead he’s slouched on the couch, Arthur’s feet in his lap, while Arthur finishes something on his laptop that can’t wait twelve hours ‘till Monday.
Eames works the arches of Arthur’s wool-clad feet in his hands and wonders if this will be the night he’s finally brave enough to kiss Arthur.
If so, he’ll be stuck with inappropriate reactions to snowmen for the rest of his life.