Chapter Text
Cobb must be a rather wise man, as it turns out that Robert Fisher does want to meet Arthur.
Only he also wants to meet Eames.
“Wants to meet me?” Eames squeaks.
Arthur shrugs. “I don’t know. Says he wants to meet both of us. I just got the phone call from Cobb this morning.”
“So, like – is it an estate? A mansion?” Eames asks.
Arthur is quiet for a few moments. “Cobb says Robert will pick us up.”
“Ah.” Eames nods.
Arthur still looks uncomfortable, and he grimaces at that. “He asked – if we have any problems with flying?”
Eames blinks. “Flying.” He states.
Arthur huffs. “Look, it’s probably not as bad –”
“He can’t just. Get us in a car, no?” Eames asks, and already, his blood is heating up inside him, hot enough to boil, to burn. “Seriously? Flying?”
“You’re the one that wanted me to meet him so much.” Arthur hisses. “I wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t for you –”
“But a plane – wait, what?” Eames grinds to a screeching halt.
Arthur looks embarrassed, his cheeks going red, colour crawling up his throat, but he clears his throat and keeps his gaze steady. “I mean, you were so insistent.”
A sudden, terrifying fear grips Eames, that he’s misunderstood everything, that he’s completely and utterly misread the entire situation and is about to make the biggest fuckup in recorded history. “Do you – do you mean so insistent on – on finding our other soulmates?” He can barely get the words out, his throat is so clogged up.
But then Arthur is scoffing, turning away. “No!” He laughs. “So insistent on this – meeting! He sounds like a real prick to me, if you ask me, if you’re – I already said me.” Arthur rubs at the back of his neck laughingly, and shakes his head. “No, Eames, it’s not because you’ve been insistent on us finding our other soulmates. That was the whole point, wasn’t it?” Arthur laughs.
Eames doesn’t really know why it hurts so much. He already knew this, it’s not new knowledge. And already-known, very much not new knowledge shouldn’t be as – painful. It’s not allowed to be this painful. It’s just fact, the sky is blue, Arthur doesn’t want him. These are the things printed in history books and taken as common information.
But it is painful, and it does hurt, and Eames simply nods. “Well.” He says, but it comes out rough. “Let’s give the poor sod a chance, hm?”
Arthur looks at him. He just looks, for a long time, as if he’s getting his fill, as if he's memorising Eames’ features.
That hurts more, for some reason. That makes Eames ache, in a way that’s very different to sharp pain. It's deep-rooted and drawn-out.
There’s nothing else Eames can take Arthur looking at him like that as, because it’s plain as day on his face: in the way his eyes rove over Eames’ expression and trail over his nose, his chin like a caress.
Because Eames doesn’t know why Arthur is doing this, if he’s the one leaving. If he's the one that suggested all this. So Eames simply stands there, and endures it, and very pointedly doesn’t do the same.
“Alright.” Arthur nods, as if Eames hadn’t just caught everything he’d been doing for the last few seconds.
And Eames nods too.
*
Eames has decided to give the bastard a chance.
He already hates him. He already hates the name Robert.
He’s got a bloody uncle called Robert. He’ll never look at the man again.
And Fisher? What kind of idiot surname is that? It sounds like fish fingers, only worse, because it’s not.
So, Eames is giving him a chance. He’s giving him a chance as Arthur and him buckle themselves into a helicopter, put fuzzy headphones their ears, and take off.
He’s still giving him a chance as they land in, yes, just as Eames had suspected, some kind of mansion.
The backyard is the size of Eames’ fucking village.
And Eames is still giving him a chance as they’re led through sprawling hallways with paintings decorating the walls.
But as soon as they enter some kind of sitting room, and Eames spots the bastard sitting on a settee – a bloody settee – he’s done.
He gives up. That’s it. One chance too many, my friend. Eames gave him all the chances in the world. But this really takes the pickle.
He’s wearing a goddamn suit.
Robert stands, stretching upwards like a cat, and smiles as he makes his way over, one hand held out.
“Hullo, I’m Robert.”
Of course. Of course he’s bloody English. Of fucking course.
Eames tries on a smile, but it fits tight and pained over his features. “Eames.”
He shakes Roberts cool hand, and Robert laughs.
“Ah. You’re not my soulmate.” He says, and then frowns. “Do I detect a hint of an English accent?”
You do, but it’s not your fucking accent, you posh sod.
“Yes.” Eames nods, and steps back.
Robert turns the corners of his mouth down, considering, but then he turns to Arthur.
“And you’re – Arthur, I take it?” He smiles, a big beaming thing.
Arthur nods, expression neutral, reaching out.
Now, Eames has never really believed in the whole soulmate malarkey. Never really believed that all humans are just animals driven by baser biology, that a pair of soulmates are territorial, possessive even.
But when Robert reaches out and clasps Arthur’s hand, Eames feels a very real growl build in the base of his throat, feels his hands itch with the urge to remove Arthur from the entire situation.
Calm, Eames. Keep calm. Look around you – look at the furniture, the rooms. Imagine Arthur living here, eating cheeseboards every day for the rest of his life and not worrying about another thing ever again.
It soothes him, somewhat, and Eames keeps that image of Arthur sprawled across a silk settee, popping grapes and –
Suddenly, the image of a naked Arthur pops into his head, spread across Egyptian cotton sheets, along with a figure at the doorway, Robert grinning like the Cheshire cat –
“Hh – do excuse me.” Eames coughs, clearing his throat to cover the involuntary noise he just made.
“Are you alright?” Robert asks. “Need any water?”
Eames shakes his head, cheeks hot. “Perfectly well, thank you.”
“Well.” Robert gestures over to the couches. “Sit, please.”
Arthur nods, and they both cross over to sit.
Eames picks a space at the end of the sofa, and Arthur follows, sitting beside him almost immediately without even bothering to wait and see where Robert is going.
It sends a rush of satisfaction through him, and Eames notices Robert watching them with shrewd eyes. He just manages to keep from grinning – just barely.
“So.” Robert begins. “Tell me why you don’t want to be soulmates.”
Eames and Arthur blink.
“It’s not –” Arthur starts.
“We don’t – don’t want –” Eames starts, but then Arthur turns to him with an incredulous tilt of his head, and Eames backpedals desperately.
“Well, we – it’s more, like – you see, what it is –”
“Eames is an ass.” Arthur states, bluntly.
That cuts, cuts deep. “Hey!” Eames can’t help cry, like a baby wanting to be soothed.
Until Arthur turns to him with a sly grin, and Eames finds a huff of laughter escaping.
“Yeah, we’ll you’re –” He flounders, because he actually can’t think of any insults, and Arthur sits back and crosses his arms.
“Stubborn.” Eames settles on, and almost wants to cringe, because it sounds more fond than anything, like something a woman would say at her and her husband’s fifty-year anniversary.
But Arthur raises his eyebrows playfully. “Is that so?”
Eames goes to open his mouth, until he realises they’re ignoring their host, and turns around.
“I – sorry, I didn’t –” Eames stammers.
“Please, carry on.” Robert waves a careless hand and a grin.
They fall silent.
“Don’t let me stop you.” Robert adds.
“We’re not.” Arthur starts, but doesn’t finish, and simply trails off awkwardly. “Um.”
“So why did you want to meet us both?” Eames asks, simply to get conversation going.
“I had to check out the competition.” Robert replies with a grin, and Eames feels that familiar feeling rise, that blood-boiling, hot feeling, and he clenches his hands.
“I’m joking.” Robert carries on, and leans forward slightly. “I’m not your enemy, Eames.” He says softly, with a smile.
Eames blinks, and opens his mouth, until Robert just comes out and asks, “Why do you want different soulmates when you’re in love with one another?”
There’s silence.
“WHAT?” Arthur screeches.
Eames’ heart is pumping, throwing itself against his ribcage repeatedly. “I – I – I –” Is all he seems capable of stuttering, the words not and don’t evading his grasp.
“I’m – I’m –” Arthur stutters, just as much at a loss, and Eames turns to him with wide eyes, his heart speeding for an entirely different reason.
“You – do you –” Eames points, but Arthur is just as wide-eyed and white-faced.
“You – are you –” Arthur grapples at words, mouth hanging open and finger shaking in Eames’ face.
“NO!” Eames squeals, in the highest pitch humanly possible, and then sees the way more blood drains from Arthur’s face.
“Oh, for fuck – yes! Yes, Arthur!” Eames cries, and buries his head in both hands. “If it wasn’t bloody, incredibly obvious by now, you know I fucking love you!”
“WHAT!” Arthur booms, louder than the first.
“It’s not as if it makes a difference anyway!” Eames cries, and turns away, stands up, because he can’t look at Arthur right now. “You might as well bloody know if it’s the choice between me and a – a fucking mansion!” His voice chokes on that, and he scrubs his face.
“Eames.” Arthur starts, his voice low and deadly.
“No, Arthur, I don’t want to hear it!” Eames shouts. “I don’t want to hear you had no fucking clue and it’s all such a revelation, of course you knew, I took you to meet my parents, I made you bloody soup, right, I couldn’t have been more obvious –”
“YOU TOLD ME YOU DIDN’T WANT A SOULMATE!” Arthur cries, almost at pterodactyl levels of screeching now. “You said that to my face –”
“Only once I got told I had none left!” Eames turns around, throwing his arms out, to find Arthur standing as well.
“You have me!” Arthur cries.
“That’s exactly why I said it!” Eames booms back. “I knew you would feel obligated –”
“Eames, you’ve always had me, alright!” Arthur shouts. “I was angry, I was embarrassed, I said I wanted another soulmate because I wanted to make you angry too, not – not because I wanted you to agree with me!” He waves a hand. “After I forgave you, it should have been pretty ‘obvious’ –” Arthur violently finger quotes – “that I didn’t want to go through with our stupid bet!”
Eames is staring, wide eyed, and feels as if he’s just been tasered in the chest, shot and electrocuted all at once.
“But.” He wheezes. “But, Arthur, look at all this – you could have all this –”
“I don’t WANT all this!” Arthur cries, throwing an arm out in an erratic movement. “It’s all worth shit, Eames! I want you, I just want you!”
Eames is incapable of speech for several moments.
“Wh.” He rasps. “Really?”
Arthur’s chest is heaving. “Yes.” He states, and looks up at Eames with something like anger and something like hope so he just looks – angrily hopeful, or hopefully angry, or one of the other.
All Eames seems able to do is stand there, speechless.
“Eames.” Arthur grits out. “Are you going to do something?” How can one make something sound angry and also sound hopeful at the same time?
At a loss, Eames finds himself tearing up.
“Oh, Arthur.” He gasps, and then he strides across the room and takes Arthur into his arms.
Arthur comes easily, and Eames presses Arthur to his chest, squeezing hard and tight, and buries his face into Arthur’s shoulder, smelling his smell and his musty jumpers. He hacks out a wet laugh, wrapping his arms around him tighter. He wants to hug Arthur twice as much as he is right now, he wants his arms to engulf Arthur and loop around him multiple like some kind of weird alien arms or that cartoon Mr. Tickly that really, honestly still freaks Eames out a bit –
But then Arthur is wrapping his own arms around Eames, tightening to the point of pain, one arm snaking around his waist and pressing them together while his other wraps along Eames’ shoulder to hold the back of his head.
Eames feels as if his heart will burst.
“I thought – I thought I was going to lose you.” Eames manages to choke, which is a bit sappy and makes his cheeks sting.
But then Arthur is pressing his hot cheek to Eames and murmuring in his ear, “You wouldn’t have lost me, I wasn’t planning on leaving, idiot.” Arthur pulls back, and his eyes are bright are fevered, a bit wet, but they can’t be much worse than Eames’.
“I was going to show you how much I didn’t care about all this, I was going to tell Robert I didn’t – Robert.” Arthur’s eyes widen, and they both glance over.
The couch is empty.
Arthur and Eames breathe out sighs of relief.
“Nice lad.” Eames decides, and Arthur chuckles, pressing their foreheads together. Eames runs his hands up and down Arthur’s sides, and it still makes him dizzy that he gets to do this.
“Arthur.” Eames exhales.
“I’ve not stopped thinking about kissing you since I saw you.” Arthur breathes.
Eames’ stomach swoops. “Really?” He huffs, although it’s shaking. “Even when I was late?”
“I just wanted to angry-snog you.” Arthur tells him, and Eames laughs.
“I thought about doing it, at my party.” Arthur confesses.
“You should have.” Eames tells him. “I would have been most receptive.”
Arthur breathes out a laugh. “That right?”
Eames nods, but before there can be any more conversation, bends down and presses their mouths together.
Arthur leans up instantly, slotting their lips against one another, catching his bottom one with a scrape of teeth and a playful pull. Eames huffs a chuckle into Arthur’s mouth, his blood singing with the contact, the soft feel of Arthur’s lips on his, the wet-damp slide.
It’s not so much that Eames is kissing Arthur as it is the knowledge that Eames is kissing Arthur.
And then Arthur’s mouth opens up underneath his, and a tongue touches his as his warm body presses harder into Eames, and Eames finds his hand lifting to Arthur’s face, landing gently on the curve of his jaw, stroking a thumb over his sharp cheekbone.
Arthur pulls away breathless, and they both pant into one another, grinning.
“You sayin’ we could have been doing that all along?” Arthur exhales, one eyebrow cocked.
Eames laughs. He’s not got much of a witty reply, not really got much of a brain at the moment, and so he simply tightens his hold on Arthur and nods. “Yeah.” He answers honestly. “If you’d done that at any point, I think I would have forgotten everything, including the whole soulmate thing.”
Arthur’s cheeks are wonderfully pink and dimpled as he beams, eyes squinted and crinkled in happiness.
*
They eventually find Robert later, once they’re re-directed by the butler, in the gardens.
“Ah.” Robert closes the book he was reading, and looks up with a grin. “Finally sorted yourselves out?”
Eames clears his throat, and reaches out with the hand not currently in Arthur’s. “Thank you.” He clasps Robert’s hand and nods sincerely this time.
Robert laughs. “I could see it a mile away. When Cobb told me about the situation, I wondered what the problem was. To hear there was, well effectively, none, I knew you two might need a helping hand.”
Eames is blushing, and Arthur scratches awkwardly at the nape of his neck, ducking his head down, but his cheeks are red too.
Robert smiles at them then, but there’s still something wistful and almost longing in his eyes, as he gazes at them both.
It makes Eames’ throat clench, clog up, and he finds his grip on Arthur tightening.
They say their goodbyes, and make promises to return, although Eames thinks they might actually, genuinely return, if not to just take full advantage of cheeseboards and lounge around a mansion all day.
They have friends in high up places, now.
They don’t end up telling their parents about the whole debacle, because it would take too long to explain, but they’re breathless and happy when they get back, and Eames can’t stop grinning, even as his cheeks hurt and his face is stretched painfully wide.
“You’re awfully happy nowadays.” His mum tells him as he’s moving about the kitchen, humming to himself.
“Mm.” Eames just says, and beams, and leans down to kiss her cheek.
*
It only starts to niggle at him afterwards, the image of Robert's huge palace, with acres of land and probably billions in gold, and then it fully comes to a head when they’re in bed one night.
“Ugh.” Arthur huffs, as he wriggles around, but still finds no room to move. “Should have just shacked up with that Robert.” He snorts.
Eames stiffens, and even as he can hear the light-hearted note in it, he still turns.
“Do you.” He starts, and coughs. “Do you mean that?”
Arthur stops fidgeting and pauses. “Is this a serious question?” He blinks.
Eames feels his cheeks heat, but picks at the sheets and shrugs, refusing to meet Arthur’s eyes.
“Eames.” Arthur shuffles closer, pressing himself along Eames side. “I really hope you’re joking.”
Eames huffs, rolls his eyes. “I just mean – you’d be living the life of luxury –”
“Eames –” Arthur starts.
“No, no, just hear me out.” Eames holds up a hand, cutting off Arthur’s words. “You really could be living in a mansion, Arthur, and sometimes I think about if we had never met –”
Arthur makes a noise, but Eames shushes him.
“If I had never showed up to the ceremony, they probably would have paired you up with Robert –”
“Ea –”
“And you would have gotten to know him, you would’ve probably fallen in love with him –”
“That’s enough.” Arthur states, and there’s an angry flush to his cheeks as he sits up. “How can you say that? Getting to know someone doesn’t guarantee you’ll fall in love with them. I fell in love with you. Nobody else.”
Eames swallows around the lump in his throat, unable to articulate his thoughts. “But –” he starts.
Arthur holds up one broad palm, a mirror of Eames' earlier move. “No. Eames, I don’t think you get what I’m saying. I love you. I love your stupid cockney accent, and the way you say things, and even when you say something that doesn’t even make sense and blame it on me not understanding British. I love your smile and your laugh and your – just, I love everything about you, because everything is you, and nobody else.” Arthur is flushed and embarrassed, but he looks determined to carry on, despite it all. “I love your family and how close you are with them, I love how kind you are to people you care about, and I love your humour and your complete obsession with dogs –”
“Arthur.” Eames chokes, clogged up.
“And all of this isn’t because you’re my soulmate.” Arthur finishes. “It’s not because we’re compatible and I’m just, somehow, chemically supposed to love you. It’s not because of our DNA or our biology. It’s because you’re you, Eames.”
Eames shakes his head, cups Arthur’s face in his hands.
“And Robert isn’t you.” Arthur whispers.
“I love you.” Eames tells him. “A lot a lot.”
Arthur chuckles, shaking his head, but he presses their foreheads together.
“And not because you’re my soulmate.” Eames continues. “Fuck, Arthur, I think I could have been a 99.9% match with someone and I wouldn’t love them the way I love you.”
Arthur laughs, kissing the corner of Eames’ mouth, and then he pulls back to raise his eyebrows. “But we were matched.” He says. “So they must be doing something right.”
Eames blinks. “Fuck. Fuck, you’re right Arthur.” He realises.
Arthur rolls on top of him, grinning down. “I think one day, you’re going to have to admit that the whole soulmate thing isn’t such a bad idea after all.”
Eames thinks he’s come around to Arthur’s way of thinking already as he rises up to meet his lips.