Work Text:
“Why can’t I marry daddy?”
Eames suppressed a snicker as Arthur maintained his impressively patient expression, although he could feel Arthur’s burning desire to hit him. “That’s not how it works, Pippa.”
“Why not? I love daddy,” Phillipa said with unmasked confusion. “And daddy loves me, right?”
Eames saw Arthur’s face fall with that one. “Of course, he does. It’s just… Well, your dad’s already your dad, right? He’s already family. You don’t need to marry him.”
Phillipa slowly nodded, accepting this new definition of marriage. Arthur sighed in relief beside him.
“Can I marry you, Uncle Arthur?”
“Wait, what?” Arthur’s relief vanished from his face.
Phillipa pouted gravely.“I know you’re not really my uncle.”
Arthur continued to look flabbergasted.
“But if I marry you, we can be family!”
Before Arthur could sputter out a rejection that would break her poor heart, Eames thoughtfully stepped in. “What a wonderful idea, Phillipa! I feel a wedding is called for.”
Eames ignored Arthur’s glaring in favor of Phillipa’s glowing grin. “Yeah!”
She ran off, yelling about rings to be made.
“I hate you,” Arthur said.
Which is how Eames found himself as an officiant clad in drawstring shorts, standing in front of an exasperated Arthur and an ecstatic Phillipa.
“You are a very lucky man,” Eames stage-whispered to Arthur.
“Shut up.”
“Rings! Rings!” Phillipa shouted, twirling in her favorite princess dress (Belle’s, because she was the smartest).
Eames presented the artisan-made pipe cleaner rings. “Do you, Arthur, take—“ (“Give Arthur the yellow one!”) “—Phillipa’s hand in marriage?”
Arthur shot Eames one last dirty look. “I do.”
“And do you, Phillipa, take Arthur’s hand in marriage?”
“Yeah!”
Eames carefully slid the neon pink ring onto Phillipa’s eager finger and turned towards Arthur. “We haven’t done this before.”
Arthur glanced down to where their hands were touching. “We haven’t.”
Eames rubbed his thumb over the furry ring on Arthur’s finger as the lady of the hour made her impatient known.
“E-e-eames!” The said lady tugged on his shorts with dangerously strong yanks.
“Yes, yes, little sprog.” Eames took both their hands. “I hereby pronounce you… Uncle and Niece.”
“Yay!” Phillipa, the trailblazing young lady she was, opted to wrap Arthur’s legs in a bear hug rather than the traditional kiss.
And well, if there was a kiss three feet above her head, she didn’t have to know.