Oh man, RL suckage and then I come home to a cuddling meme. I'm going to immerse myself after I write this little thing...
--
Arthur goes to sleep alone and wakes up under what feels like about fifteen blankets. When he makes a muffled noise of protest, the blankets obligingly grunt and roll aside so Arthur can breathe.
"What did I say about breaking into my apartment?" Arthur grumbles blearily. He's had what amounts to approximately forty minutes sleep in a week and he had finally found himself with a night off. His current coworkers had gone out drinking to celebrate the reprieve but Arthur had heard the siren song of Egyptian cotton and a pillowtop mattress.
"It's the only address I could remember," Eames says from somewhere down and to the left. He's a furnace all along Arthur's side and Arthur feels wet, open-mouthed breaths against his shoulder. "The bloke asked and I had a brain freeze."
"Or you were too drunk to remember where you lived when you got in the cab," Arthur says, shaking his shoulder a little to dislodge Eames' mouth because there's a definite wet patch forming in his sleep shirt and not the fun kind.
"Or I was too drunk to remember where I lived," Eames says agreeably. "S'not my fault. I've had six places in about four months. You, on the other hand are delightfully consistent."
"I've been able to keep this place because no one knows about it," Arthur says and looks down his body at where Eames has snuck a hand across his stomach. "Or at least they shouldn't."
"Can't keep anything secret from me, love," Eames says as his hand curls at Arthur's hip and tugs a little, drawing Arthur closer to him.
"I'm discovering that... just what do you think you're doing?" Arthur finally breaks and asks.
"Trying to make you the little spoon?" Eames says, finally unearthing his head and grinning in the darkness. He tugs at Arthur again and Arthur is dragged half onto his side and mostly against Eames' chest. He wriggles but Eames just uses his movement to insinuate a hand under Arthur's other side and completely incase him in arms. "Success," he sighs.
"You can't just break into my secret apartment and make me cuddle you," Arthur grumbles, but his protest is lost in a wide yawn and as he slides into unconsciousness, the last thing he hears is Eames chuckling and saying, "As it turns out, I can."
Arthur/Eames
--
Arthur goes to sleep alone and wakes up under what feels like about fifteen blankets. When he makes a muffled noise of protest, the blankets obligingly grunt and roll aside so Arthur can breathe.
"What did I say about breaking into my apartment?" Arthur grumbles blearily. He's had what amounts to approximately forty minutes sleep in a week and he had finally found himself with a night off. His current coworkers had gone out drinking to celebrate the reprieve but Arthur had heard the siren song of Egyptian cotton and a pillowtop mattress.
"It's the only address I could remember," Eames says from somewhere down and to the left. He's a furnace all along Arthur's side and Arthur feels wet, open-mouthed breaths against his shoulder. "The bloke asked and I had a brain freeze."
"Or you were too drunk to remember where you lived when you got in the cab," Arthur says, shaking his shoulder a little to dislodge Eames' mouth because there's a definite wet patch forming in his sleep shirt and not the fun kind.
"Or I was too drunk to remember where I lived," Eames says agreeably. "S'not my fault. I've had six places in about four months. You, on the other hand are delightfully consistent."
"I've been able to keep this place because no one knows about it," Arthur says and looks down his body at where Eames has snuck a hand across his stomach. "Or at least they shouldn't."
"Can't keep anything secret from me, love," Eames says as his hand curls at Arthur's hip and tugs a little, drawing Arthur closer to him.
"I'm discovering that... just what do you think you're doing?" Arthur finally breaks and asks.
"Trying to make you the little spoon?" Eames says, finally unearthing his head and grinning in the darkness. He tugs at Arthur again and Arthur is dragged half onto his side and mostly against Eames' chest. He wriggles but Eames just uses his movement to insinuate a hand under Arthur's other side and completely incase him in arms. "Success," he sighs.
"You can't just break into my secret apartment and make me cuddle you," Arthur grumbles, but his protest is lost in a wide yawn and as he slides into unconsciousness, the last thing he hears is Eames chuckling and saying, "As it turns out, I can."